


How We Keep Ourselves Fed

by Autumnweebs



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: A heart-rending journey ahead, F/F, I ain't spoiling nothing else in the tags, Jiyoo slowburn, Suyoo friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 104,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumnweebs/pseuds/Autumnweebs
Summary: “We’re from good ole ‘Merica!” Gahyeon speaks once more, strongly emphasizing her Texan accent, along with her point--that she’s certainly taking her time to get to.“We might look like them, and have some of those Korean roots in us; but we’ll never fully be like them!”Ah, there it is.Yoohyeon feels wobbly as she leans forward, breaking her eye contact with her younger cousin to look at the night’s picture perfect sky, in hopes that maybe she’ll stop seeing double of everything, and that maybe Gahyeon won’t be able to see the frustration rising across her features.“I know that! I’ve never wanted to be fully like them, and that’s never been the reason why I’ve wanted to go!” Yoohyeon admits, and -God- it’s the truth that no one seems to want to hear, as if it’s always been more digestible for them to think she’s wants to fully embrace her Korean side, and not the sheer fact that something in Yoohyeon’s heart has taken a hold of her ever since the age of five and has never let go since.OrA retelling/full-length fic of - Before We Eat
Relationships: Kim Minji | JiU/Kim Yoohyeon
Comments: 75
Kudos: 64





	1. Prologue (We tell stories of things we never had)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi my wonderful readers and friends! After much contemplation and many nights spent lying awake because of it, I decided to turn my previous fic "Before We Eat" into a full-length story! *Champagne bottles popping open in the background* I wanted say thank you again to everyone who read that story and sent much love it's way! You guys are awesome! :') If you're new here and haven't read my fic listed above, I recommend that you don't go and read it!!! Hahaha, it's contains massive spoilers for what's to come in this fic. So if you want to stay surprised DON'T READ IT! As for the readers that have already read it....well. X)
> 
> I'll stop talking now. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

When Yoohyeon was a little girl, no more than the age of five, her mother often told her stories pertaining to life in South Korea.

However, these stories were not told from her perspective.

No, for they were fabricated from not just lack of experience but also from a mind of a mother, who had a colorful imagination, matching Yoohyeon’s own.

Her mother’s stories were full of fantasy and wonder, always having so much life to them Yoohyeon would get lost in her own reverie.

Tales her mother told of pretty girls in Hanfu dresses, running through beautiful flowery fields, happiness well alive in their hearts as they spun around, the sun kissing their youthful skin.

Stories of old women and young women alike, sewing those same mystical gowns to please their ancestors, and bring them good fortune.

Tellings of cherry blossoms trees that were larger than most houses, and sweet kisses shared underneath of them by people in love, who’d kiss as the soft pink petals fell around them; painting them in colors that reminded a five year old Yoohyeon of love.

Thrilling war stories of soldiers who’d fight a great evil battle. But as long as they remained alongside one another--the war would be won. 

All of this and so much more.

Yoohyeon never had a favorite, far too many to pick just one.

However, there was one story her mother often told her, one that stood out the most--one she’d beg endlessly for her mother to retell.

A story of a beautiful woman, whose beauty matched that of angels. She had long raven hair, and eyes that shined like obsidian, and closed in happy crescent moons. 

But she was far from happy.

She lived in a huge mansion all by herself. 

No one to talk to, no one to touch; never did she receive sweet kisses.

Burdened by immeasurable sadness, she wallows in grief of a broken heart; for she no longer was herself.

Just a sad lonely woman, who truthfully yearned for love.

But she was very afraid because she tarnished everything she touched, like Midas’s gold touch. But instead of turning people to gold, she would change them into something whose color was much lighter than gold, but darker than the night’s sky.

So she stayed hidden away from the rest of the world, always bitter as the years passed her by. 

For she spent her long days looking out her bedroom window, down onto her massive vineyard--longing for the day her true love would come.

Someone to break this curse.

Someone to finally love and be loved.

On days not spent by the window she often twirled her long fingers around the vines of the grapes, the only thing she couldn’t destroy, and whispered to them, _“Am I not deserving of love?”_

To which the vineyard answered her not, for they held all her secrets.

The days were long, but the years somehow shorter.

Passing her right by, for she had watched the seasons change so many times, to a point where her heart felt numb to the cold that would chill her bones each winter that had gone by in a blink of an eye; thus marking another new year. 

But everyday she waited by her window, hoping that one day love too would soon come.

Yoohyeon had always hung on every-single-word her mother would utter, as if she was the world’s greatest story-teller and not just some ordinary mom who truthfully told stories to get her hyper-active daughter to go to sleep.

Nonetheless, she enjoyed telling them, and every time her daughter had smiled at her, so bright, so full of hope. She too hoped that Yoohyeon would never lose that childlike wonder to her.

.

Two years later, at the age of seven, Yoohyeon has yet to lose that wonder.

Her mother watches her play with her younger cousin, Gahyeon, outside; from the porch of their all around American dream suburban home. 

The warm rays from southern Texas’s sun warms their skin, and brightens her mother’s heart. She smiles fondly at them as she listens in on what appears to be a war meeting.

“General Gahyeon, if we strike at day our enemies won’t see us coming!” Yoohyeon informs with a rise of her fist, a look of sheer determination on her face before the corners of her lips slips quickly into a frown as the towel wrapped around her clothes, which appears to look like a makeshift dress, loosen.

Gahyeon’s little face twists into a look of confusion, her brows furrowing together as she looks up at her older cousin, who towers over her in stature.

“Yoo, it’s day time won’t they see us coming?” She asks, genuinely confused, before fixing the large box over her body, one that was supposed to be armor--courtesy of Yoohyeon’s mother. 

”Why are you wearing a dress? Don’t soldiers wear armor?” She probes once more, her little head tilting to the side, she looks like a confused little puppy.

Yoohyeon looks extremely offended, “This isn’t a dress, it's a Hanfu! Also not all soldiers wear armor, Gahyeon.” She replies back, firm with her words. For she always seemed older than what she truly was.

Wise beyond her years already.

“And our enemies are monsters. Monsters can’t come out when it’s not dark, duh!”

Gahyeon is quiet, seemingly thinking over Yoohyeon’s words before a timid look contorts her features. “...But I’m..still scared..” She admits quietly, tears swelling up in her little eyes.

Yoohyeon’s little heart immediately aches, she doesn’t like it when her favorite cousin cries. “Don’t worry Gahyeonnie.” She says, her tone soft as she carefully steps forward before placing her tiny hands on Gahyeon’s even tinier shoulders. 

“As long as we’re together I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She promises, means it with every fiber of her little soul.

A big promise for such a little girl to make, but Yoohyeon would always extend past the limits in which one normally wouldn't go.

(If only her family knew just how far she’d go.)

Gahyeon sniffles before a smile curls at her lips. “Okay….I’ll try to be brave for you too.” She says, raising her little stick, which was actually a sword at least to them, ever-so-slightly in the air.

Yoohyeon practically beams with joy as she too raises her sword, swearing an alliance that would last for years; and sharing stories and adventures that wouldn’t last as long.

Yoohyeon’s mother sighs, full of happiness.

She’s raising the brightest girl, with a heart too big for her little chest.

She hopes Yoohyeon never grows out of that childlike innocence--innocence that the stories she tells her are somehow true.

.

Several hours later, Yoohyeon and Gahyeon are crawling into Yoohyeon’s bed, giggling like tiny maniacs as Yoohyeon’s mother attempts to shush them so they won’t wake up her husband sleeping in the next room over.

(Although that man could really sleep through the end of the world without any problem.)

“Bedtime stories, Aunt Mina! Bedtime stories!” Gahyeon requests excitedly, jumping up and down on her little tushie as Yoohyeon settles them both underneath the covers, all while avoiding Gahyeon’s happy fists that threatens to give her a black eye because of how wildly she’s slinging them around.

“Okay, okay. Settle down honey.” Mina tells her, trying to be somewhat stern but her soft voice and quiet airy laughter fails her.

However, Gahyeon does settle down, opting to squish into her older cousin's side, who looks just as excited to hear her mother’s story.

Mina sits on the foot of the bed before resting her gentle hands on the little girls’ calves. “Now the question is..which one should I tell?” She asks playfully, pretending to think long about it just to see how patient her two favorite girls will be.

Gahyeon isn't doing so well, she’s squirming around as her anticipation threatens to send her springing up from out of the bed.

But Yoohyeon on the other hand is perfectly still, except for when she leans ever-so-slightly forward, her little eyes too big and hopeful. “Can we hear the story about the pretty lady in the big house?” She asks quietly, a certain shyness laced within her tone.

Mina smiles knowingly. “Of course.”

She had no doubt in her mind that was the story she was meant to tell.

.

By the time she’s finished with the story about the beautiful woman who lives alone in that big mansion, Yoohyeon is nearly passed out.

Gahyeon had fallen asleep right in the middle of the story, cuddling up close to her older cousin, who had listened without fail, as if that story was information she needed to keep stored into her brain, heart, and soul forever.

(She did too.)

Yoohyeon’s eyes sag close before opening once again, only when she feels her mother rise off the bed does she call to her.

 _“Mommy?”_ Her voice no louder than a whisper.

Mina turns back around, she looks tired, probably from watching two of the hyperest kids in Texas no doubt. But she still smiles sweetly at her daughter, always ready to put her needs on the back-burner when it comes to her child; who is deeply beloved by her. 

“Yes, dear?”

There’s a small pause, and her daughter looks uneasy, as if what she might say next will upset her mother; though nothing she could say would ever truly make her mad, for Mina always held the cognizance and compassion of a saint. 

Yoohyeon’s little eyes finally meet with her mother’s, and for some reason Mina is already holding her breath.

“I want to go to South Korea.” Yoohyeon tells her, her tone small, but there’s a certain firmness behind her words that causes her mother to sit back down.

Mina knows her daughter has an overly imaginative mind, and even bigger dreams. So it shouldn’t have come as such a shock to her to hear her daughter say those words.

If she’s being honest with herself, she never thought her stories that she has told Yoohyeon all throughout these years would have made such an impact on her; that impact being so serious that her daughter wants to move halfway across the world.

At such a young age too.

It’s childish, and so silly.

But there’s a certain look behind her daughter’s ever-lasting warm eyes that tells so much more than what any of her powerful stories ever could.

(There was so much truth behind her little words.)

“What for?” Mina asks, smiling, despite the air feeling somewhat serious now.

“Because.” Yoohyeon mutters, looking away.

Mina’s heart sighs in relief because there’s that childish display back again, overthrowing Yoohyeon’s much too older demeanor that had been showing just seconds ago. 

Her mother lightly chuckles, but she doesn’t say anything yet, for she knows her daughter isn’t finished. Instead she waits patiently for her daughter to continue.

Eventually Yoohyeon does, but it takes a moment. 

Her face is riddled with so much emotion, too many for a little girl her age to feel, causing her mother to scoot closer to her as Yoohyeon finally looks up to her--so much sadness in those big brown eyes of hers.

“What if that lady is still waiting for someone to kiss her?” She asks, stealing her mother’s breath away because that wasn’t the answer she was expecting, if she’s honest.

But also because she truly is raising such a wonderful daughter who thinks of others over herself, carrying so much empathy, and steadfast sympathy, despite being only a little girl. 

Even at the measly age of seven, Mina is so proud of Yoohyeon already.

Such a big hopeful heart; Mina prays to God that her daughter never grows out of it.

“Oh, baby.” Her mother starts off, leaning close to tuck a single strand of brunette hair behind Yoohyeon’s ear. Her warm hand palms the chubby cheek of her daughter’s face as she skims a gentle thumb underneath her eye. 

She sees how her precious little girl is nearly on the verge of tears, and honestly Mina kind of feels regret over telling such a heartbreaking story--one that wasn’t made up from her own overly imaginative mind, but was told to her as a bedtime story many years ago by her own grandmother.

That’s all it is, really. Just another story.

There was never a lady who waited by a window, yearning for true love--waiting for the day that “ _the one”_ would come and kiss her, finally receiving those sweet kisses. 

(Which would break the curse, according to her grandmother.)

But she couldn’t tell her daughter that--I’d break Yoohyeon’s caring little heart even more than thinking that story is real.

“I’m sure she found someone to kiss.” She tries to reassure her, but her daughter seems more lost than before. It makes Mina’s heart squeeze in a way that's discomforting.

“B-but….” Yoohyeon's voice goes quiet, her big eyes dimming of any previous light that was left in them. “....Then why do you never tell that part of the story?”

Her mother’s breath hitches, and honestly she doesn't know how to answer that one.

Because truthfully, she doesn’t know if that woman ever did find someone to kiss. 

*** 

Gahyeon grew out of the stories.

Yoohyeon never did.

Not even eight years later after reaching the big age of fifteen.

Sure, she’s matured and along with her so has the stories.

She doesn’t play in the backyard with Gahyeon anymore, no more sword wielding, monster slaying times to be had.

Instead she takes up a massive interest in true crime and police protocols.

Which is different, Mina had often thought.

But she allows her daughter to do her thing even though most of Yoohyeon’s time is spent excelling in school, and staying in her room with headphones on as she watches yet another police centered video.

Than another, and another.

But Mina smiles each time, knowing that when Yoohyeon has her heart set on something she fully goes in without much restraint, even if it’s nothing more than just wild-childish-dreams.

Yoohyeon is sixteen by the time she walks up to her parents at the dinner table one day after career day at school, and proudly informs them, “I’m going to be a police officer.”

Her father rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the newspaper. “Sure, Kiddo.” He says, letting this newfound information slide off his shoulders; not knowing just how serious his daughter is.

Mina on the other hand smiles, it’s a little sad, a lot of resigned, “Okay.” She replies simply, but firm.

Because she knows how serious her daughter is, how when Yoohyeon puts her heart into something she won’t give up until she has it; even if it all started from wild-childish-dreams.

(And, should the truth be known, those stories she used to tell Yoohyeon all those years ago.)

***

Two years later, Mina learns even more how serious her daughter is.

But this time it goes back that conversion they had eleven years ago--so long ago, but Mina remembers it like it was yesterday.

“Mom, when I graduate high school I want to go to South Korea, get my citizenship before graduating from the police academy there.” Yoohyeon tells her, and something in Mina’s heart ticks away.

Somehow it all really started with the stories--and that lady who waits.

But Yoohyeon doesn’t wear towels around her body anymore, nor does she ask to be told Korean bedtime stories.

Now as a young woman, entering into her own adulthood, she spends all of her free time learning and practicing her Korean speaking skills, and spends hours upon hours on it, along with learning excessively about the culture and history there.

Mina’s husband had told her once _: “It’s good that she wants to know about where she comes from. We might be American, born and raised here, but we’ll always have our Korean heritage to us! Your grandmother would be proud to know that Yoohyeon keeps that part of her heritage close to her heart.”_

Mina knows that, has known that. But what no one else seems to be getting is just how serious Yoohyeon is about this.

Although she’s painfully aware of her daughter’s drive and determination, she still looks at her as if she’s being ridiculous. 

“Sure, Honey. Whatever you say.” She plays along, however, Yoohyeon isn’t playing; and Mina knows this. She is only being deflective to tend to her heart that’s bound to be broken one day soon.

As Mina turns back around to finish the horde of unwashed dishes in the sink, leaving Yoohyeon to remain sitting quietly at the kitchen table; somewhere in the far distance in the back of Mina’s mind--she can hear her grandmother singing some old Korean nursery rhyme, one that she used to sing over the phone to her when Mina was only a little girl herself.

_“Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo. Crossing over Arirang Pass. My dear who went away and left me. Shall only walk two miles before her feet hurt.”_

Mina wonders if her grandmother ever felt like she’s feeling now, knowing that like the pain of love and goodbye there are hills of life that everyone has to tread across.

Her grandmother had said goodbye to her only daughter also, who had roamed across the world to the hills of America to have Mina, in hopes of starting a new life here.

Now Mina must ready herself to say goodbye to Yoohyeon, who, without a shadow of a doubt, is also preparing to walk across those same hills back to South Korea.

Mina hums along, lightly scrubbing the dirty plate in her hands; trying to comprehend how her heart isn’t even broken yet, but she still feels the pain already setting in.

It all started with her stories--that now, are feeling somewhat too real. 

_Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo. Crossing over Arirang Pass. My dear who went away and left me. Shall only walk two miles before her feet hurt._

***

No one else is as brutally honest with Yoohyeon as Gahyeon is, and it all starts in a way that’s so subtle.

“You’re so stupid!” Gahyeon whisper-screams as she climbs up the white Ladis fence, covered in various flowers outside of Yoohyeon’s house to help her extremely clumsy older cousin get her gold cross necklace unstuck from the fence.

(A necklace Mina had given to her daughter on her eighteen birthday, a reminder to keep faith that when times are hard, there’s always a bright light at the end of the dark tunnel. It’s Yoohyeon’s most prized possession; having never taken it off since the day it was given to her.)

Yoohyeon finds the remark to be quite ironic coming from Gahyeon, considering she’s the one who proposed the idea of sneaking out on a Sunday night to go to the local carnival, despite both of their parents’ wishes against it; because once again it’s Sunday which means they both have school to attend to tomorrow.

(Gahyeon’s school day consists of the over-grueling end of the year testing, and Yoohyeon’s day consists of SAT testing **;** with the ACT testing being scheduled a week after. She really has her hands full, and probably should be spending her time studying and not sneaking out. But she’s still young, after all.) 

However, as Gahyeon tries to hang on to the fence, so she doesn’t fall, while attempting to use her free hand to untangle the necklace from said fence as her older cousin squirms to free herself; Yoohyeon is left wondering who really is the stupid one.

Gahyeon for having this idea or herself for willingly participating in it?

(Despite her good-girl nature.)

In one swift motion Gahyeon has the necklace free from the Ladis’s strong grasp, but unfortunately for both of the girls, her coordination isn’t so precise, thus sending them both falling backwards onto the hard ground below.

The air quite literally gets knocked out of them.

Gahyeon makes a pained sound, middling somewhere between a whine and a groan, while Yoohyeon lies unmoving on the grass, a look of pain riddled across her features.

Gahyeon curls into herself before wheezing out, “You’re so stupid.”

This time Yoohyeon agrees.

.

“You’re so stupid!!!” Gahyeon loudly, like, _very-very-loudly,_ tells her once more as they walk side by side at the carnival, causing Yoohyeon to wince.

The night’s cool air breezes through their long hair, and feels nice on their warm skin.

The whole area smells like popcorn, and greasy fried foods, and the shady looking light poles surrounding the area light up the carnival in a dreamy-like haze.

A palette of all sorts of colors fills Yoohyeon’s vision, shades of deep blues, fiery reds, and bright yellows; flashes from the various rides and game stalls.

Everything feels so surreal, and there's this childhood nostalgia that washes over Yoohyeon; reminding her of the good ol’ days where her and Gahyeon always got into some sort of adventure, sometimes even trouble.

Somethings never change--until they have no choice to. 

Yoohyeon shakes her head, refusing to let the girl, who is currently chowing down on her fifth corn dog of the night, make her feel bad about her decisions. 

Not when Gahyeon is just one more corn dog away from a heart attack, figuratively of course.

But Yoohyeon supposes in the grand scheme of things, packing up and moving to South Korea after graduation, that’s literally right around the corner, does sound kind of crazy, if not impossible to most.

But to her the impossible has always been possible, she just eases the first two letters and prays that somehow it works.

If that makes her crazy--then so be it.

.

“You’re crazy! Nuts! Entirely off your rocker!” Gahyeon yells at her while she cranks the wheel in the middle of the teacup ride, causing the teacup to spin even faster, thus sending Yoohyeon sliding back and forth uncontrollably in the seat across from her.

Yoohyeon doesn’t reply right away, far too busy trying to keep the cotton candy down that she had eaten before getting on this ride; all while wondering how in the world Gahyeon is holding up perfectly fine, despite eating nearly half the menu here.

Yoohyeon sends a pointed look her way, but her face is all flushed and looking somewhat green, causing Gahyeon to not take her seriously at all; though she never really did, in some aspects at least.

But with this, Yoohyeon’s whole: I' _m-going-to-South-Korea-and-there-is-no-one-on-this-earth-that-can-stop-me-from-doing-this_ attitude, and fully known intentions behind said attitude. Gahyeon takes her seriously, enough that she's the only one willing to be painfully honest with her. 

“We’re not like them, Yoohyeon!” She yells over the other groups’ loud laughter and joyous squeals, her tone more serious than before, along with the expression on her face that seemingly reads: _I need you to listen to me, and listen to me well._

Yoohyeon tries to keep her eyes locked with Gahyeon’s own, but it’s proving hard to do, considering her body is still wildly colliding against either side of the teacup’s smooth walls, and honestly it’s sort of fitting. Because for the last two years now she has felt like life is carelessly pushing her in different directions to stop her from reaching her desired destination.

But somehow she’s still surviving this ride, despite the ever-changing circumstances, or more commonly known as: her parents and her little cousin’s denial to accept that her choice had been made long ago, and Yoohyeon plans to see it all the way through; no matter the hardships that may come along with it.

“We’re from good ole ‘Merica!” Gahyeon speaks once more, strongly emphasizing her Texan accent, along with her point--that she’s certainly taking her time to get to. 

“We might look like them, and have some of those Korean roots in us; but we’ll never fully be like them!”

Ah, there it is.

Yoohyeon feels wobbly as she leans forward, breaking her eye contact with her younger cousin to look at the night’s picture perfect sky, in hopes that maybe she’ll stop seeing double of everything, and that maybe Gahyeon won’t be able to see the frustration rising across her features.

“I know that! I’ve never wanted to be fully like them, and that’s never been the reason why I’ve wanted to go!” Yoohyeon admits, and _-God-_ it’s the truth that no one seems to want to hear, as if it’s always been more digestible for them to think she’s wants to fully embrace her Korean side, and not the sheer fact that something in Yoohyeon’s heart has taken a hold of her ever since the age of five and has never let go since.

“What then? Are you going just to go kiss some pretty, _Unnie?_ ” Gahyeon rebuttals, and there’s some mockery behind her tone but that comes from not understanding. 

Honestly it’s easier for her to pin the blame on some ethereal-make-believe-woman than to actually accept the fact that Yoohyeon’s decisions run further than that. 

“NO!” Yoohyeon squeals much too fast, prompting devilish laughter to trail out of Gahyeon’s lips.

“I know you’re gay, Yoo. But I didn’t think you were _that gay!_ ” Gahyeon snickers endlessly, all while cranking the wheel even faster, nearly causing Yoohyeon to lose her balance and fall to the floor of the ride.

“First off, I like _all kinds of people_ , so I’m not nearly _that gay_!” Yoohyeon informs before swallowing down some vomit rising in her throat. If Gahyeon doesn’t stop cranking that wheel like she’s the lead role in a Fast & Furious movie Yoohyeon is almost positive she’ll throw up.

“Sure, Jan. Where’s the U-haul?” Gahyeon quips back, laughing impossibly louder than before.

“SECONDLY!” Yoohyeon screams, ignoring her cousin's remark, but gaining the attention of several people passing by, to which she smiles politely; they return it, before she sends a glare Gahyeon’s way, who literally only laughs more.

“Me wanting to move to South Korea goes deeper than some story mom used to tell us as kids. You know that!” Yoohyeon confesses, her heart feeling somewhat lighter than before. 

Her whole life spinning right before her eyes.

Gahyeon’s face contorts into a look of realization, like she finally gets it before she forces the look off her face, opting to mask a look of indifference and somewhat irritation.

Yoohyeon never did grow out of the stories, and Gahyeon has watched her very closely through the years of growing up side by side together.

While Gahyeon was interested in gaining the popular quarterback’s jersey at school, going to the movies with her friends, and all around trying to survive high school as a whole.

Her older cousin hardly dated, if at all. Gahyeon can only remember some dorky looking boy Yoohyeon had shown up at their homecoming dance with; back in Yoohyeon’s sophomore year. 

That obviously went nowhere.

For Yoohyeon liked staying home in favor of watching crime documentaries and listening to K-pop, much to Gahyeon’s disgust.

(However, Gahyeon will say, the girl group: Spica, effortlessly comes through with bangers and bops; and she does listen to them occasionally in her own free time.) 

Her older cousin really didn’t have any friends outside of a few people she spoke to pertaining to group projects in school.

Yoohyeon really did spend the majority of her teenage years learning Korean and focusing on a goal that seemed unachievable.

But Gahyeon had always carried this feeling that for Yoohyeon, going to South Korea in hopes of becoming a police officer was very much possible for her.

That’s the problem, that with Yoohyeon everything is possible.

“Maybe so! But that doesn’t change the fact that these people aren’t like your mom’s stories! South Korea isn’t all Hanfu dresses and pretty girls, Yoohyeon!” Gahyeon says firmly, trying every way in the world to somehow talk Yoohyeon out of it.

Though she knows it’s pointless--even before hearing Yoohyeon’s reply.

“God, Gahyeon! I know that! This isn’t about the stories anymore!” Yoohyeon yells back, and there's a certain desperation behind her words that so clearly says: _You’re the only person that truly gets it….So please stop acting like you don’t._

That’s the other problem, that Gahyeon does get it; and it’s enough to almost break her heart.

She locks her eyes with Yoohyeon’s own, her eyes look so tired but hopeful, and _-damn-_ maybe there’s even a hint of sadness hidden between the amber flakes in Yoohyeon’s warm eyes. 

Because honestly they know each other well enough to know that, Yoohyeon is hopeful of the future, and Gahyeon is teetering on the edge of a broken heart because she knows that future will result in them being separate once and for all.

 _As long as we're together, huh?_ Gahyeon thinks wistfully, somewhat bitterly, and somehow she knows Yoohyeon had heard it because a heart-rending frown takes up the space on Yoohyeon’s lips seconds later.

Gahyeon squeezes her eyes shut, _“You’re so stupid.”_ She whispers before cranking the wheel with all the strength she has left in her.

.

After throwing up all the remainder of the cotton candy in her stomach, Yoohyeon finds herself on the massive Ferris wheel, which honestly looks hardly safe at all. 

Do the workers even check these rides? Or do they just slap ‘em down and think: _Eh, that’s good enough!_

Yoohyeon is not so sure she wants to know, but when Gahyeon starts rocking the cart with them in it as they descend into the air, she’s sure this is how she’ll die.

“Can you not do that?” She asks hastily, not bothering to hide the fear in her voice.

Gahyeon rocks the cart harder.

Even though Yoohyeon had just spent the last fifteen minutes puking her guts up, she’s on the verge of throwing up again.

They’ll find her pancaked in her own vomit, - _God-_ how will her parents be able to distinguish that it's her? She’s seen enough Forensic Files episodes to know how this will turn out, should Gahyeon lead them to an untimely death.

Death by rocking this goddamn cart.

“I’m just preparing you for your plane ride. This is how turbulence feels, ya know?” Gahyeon finally says, slowing down her movements just by a fraction.

Yoohyeon scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You’ve never even been on a plane.” She tells her matter-of-factly, annoyance clearly heard in her tone and shown on her features.

“And you’ve never even kissed a girl but yet you’re gay, shut up.” Gahyeon quips back, but it’s more out of fondness than being mean-spirited.

 _Oh god, this again?_ Yoohyeon thinks to herself before attempting to defend herself, “I told you that-”

Gahyeon cuts her off with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah, you like _all kinds of people._ I know, but I don’t care.”

Yoohyeon huffs before opting to spend the rest of the ride in silence.

That is until the Ferris wheel decides to stop, causing their cart to go stagnant at the very top.

But she doesn’t really say anything, more like she makes this little protesting fearful whine; which is clearly hilarious to Gahyeon because she’s laughing up a storm next to her.

“ _Top, top, top of the world~_ ” Gahyeon sings in between her laughter, scooting closer to her older cousin, who for the first time in her life looks capable of murder.

“What’s funny is I used to be afraid of heights. You never were...but now.” Gahyeon alludes, grinning like a mischievous fox.

“I’m not scared of heights. I’m scared of this damn Ferris wheel!” Yoohyeon finally speaks up, her teeth feel extremely itchy. She forces herself not to pick at them.

Gahyeon shrugs her shoulders. “Fair enough.” before adding, “At least the view is nice.”

Yoohyeon pushes past her fear to look down at the scenery below. Everything is so tiny but yet remains so beautiful, all those colors from the rides and vendors still shine brightly and the carnival looks just as dreamy as it did when she saw it on ground-level.

The only thing that looks different is the never-ending row of trees in the far background, they somehow looked closer, and Yoohyeon feels if she tried hard enough she could look past them and see the rest of the world before her; see her future hidden somewhere behind the trees.

But instead she takes the opportunity to look to the heavens, to see the sky painted in numerous stars and a gorgeous waxing crescent moon.

It amazes her how the night forever changes, and It’s somewhat comforting to know that even when new change arises there is beauty to be found after the uncertainty of what it brings.

Yoohyeon would be lying if she said her plans didn’t scare her sometimes or that there weren't days where she thought about giving up.

Truthfully there were many days and many night’s she spent mulling over the possibilities, good and bad.

But at the end of it all -through her ever-present worrying of leaving her family - her life in America - all that’s she’s ever really known behind - calls her heart that tells her: _Yoohyeon, this is where you're meant to go._

She doesn’t really understand it fully, but - _God-_ does she feel it.

It’s this unexplainable tug that has her hooked on the other side, reeling her in until one day she’s finally to be pulled to shore.

As if she’s spent the last eighteen years just floating by, unsure, but somehow positive.

She’s always believed in the power of words, actions, and honestly--fate.

It all started with her mother’s stories, grew from her and Gahyeon’s countless times playing in the backyard; pretending that it was flowery fields in some South Korea countryside; then finally bloomed from this sheer idea that fate was calling her there.

Maybe it’s reckless to think that way, but Yoohyeon doesn’t have any other answer to give.

She just prays that fate is not playing her as a fool, and will guide her to where she’s supposed to be.

Yoohyeon closes her eyes, inhales the crisp air, and for a moment everything feels at ease in the world. 

Gahyeon’s booming voice is quick to disrupt that peace.

“I want you to look right now, and tell me what South Korea has that we don’t have?” She demands, it’s her final attempt to waver Yoohyeon’s unwaverable mind--unwaverable heart.

But Yoohyeon is willing to play the devil’s advocate if it means Gahyeon will feel somewhat better about all this.

She looks down below once again, this time her eyes catch the various people wearing cowboy getup, couples walking side by side-hand in hand, and young teenagers drinking alcohol outside the portable toilets.

It’s all too cliché, but yet it’s her home and always will be.

She fully understands Gahyeon’s point--but now Gahyeon must understand hers.

“It isn’t what they have, Gahyeon…” Yoohyeon breathes out, her voice sounds so small. It reminds Gahyeon of their younger years; of a young Yoohyeon that seemingly never has grown up; but at the same time has. 

Now she’s grown into a mature body, a undeniably pretty face; and a heart that will forever remain childish, but in the best way possible.

This look of sheer longing that riddles Yoohyeon’s features has Gahyeon holding her breath, keeping it locked into her chest like all these painful feelings she’s had to endured for the last two years _-Hell-_ ever since Yoohyeon told her she’d be leaving for South Korea one day.

These feelings rapidly bubble up sorrowfully from within her chest, threatening to over spill past the brim of her heart; like all this word vomit she’s holding on the tip of her tongue to try and coax Yoohyeon to stay here in America.

Until- 

“...It’s about what I’m missing.” Yoohyeon finishes, looking over into Gahyeon’s eyes; tears swelling up in her warm brown eyes.

Gahyeon’s heart squeezes at the sight before she scoots impossibly closer, carefully wrapping a comforting arm around Yoohyeon’s shoulders, who instantly sinks into her side.

There’s a sentimental pause as Yoohyeon rests her head on Gahyeon’s shoulder while her little cousin rubs up and down her arm soothingly.

All those feelings in Gahyeon’s heart fizzle right out as she pulls Yoohyeon closer to her.

“Do you think you’ll find it there?” Gahyeon asks after a moment, her tone too quiet for her, and if Yoohyeon wasn’t settled so close to her she probably wouldn't have heard her.

Yoohyeon inhales a shaky breath of air, “Yeah, I do.” She exhales firmly.

Gahyeon squeezes her ever-so-slightly. “Ok.” Is her simple reply, but Yoohyeon feels the weight behind it; feels Gahyeon finally accepting her decision.

Something in Yoohyeon’s soul feels lifted.

The moment Yoohyeon wraps her arms around her little cousin, pulling her in for a much needed hug, the Ferris wheel begins to slowly descend again; and Yoohyeon whispers a soft, but overflowed with gratitude, _“Thank you.”_

Yoohyeon doesn’t feel like she’s being pushed in every direction except for straight ahead. Now she feels like along with this Ferris wheel, she too is moving forward.

***

Yoohyeon doesn’t miss how life seems to rain down its consequences when going against what her conscience deems as wrong.

For it’s quite literally down pouring on her and Gahyeon as they sprint through the streets to make it home, using their hands to try and shield their clothes in a futile attempt to not have foreseeable evidence that both of them defiled their parents’ wishes and snuck out anyways.

The cold raindrops pound against Yoohyeon’s skin, like a drumstick would to a drum, rapidly without any pauses in between.

She nearly slips on a thin layer of a puddle, but luckily, Gahyeon quickly grabs her jacket, holstering her upwards until Yoohyeon reclaims her balance before running once more.

“You’re so stupid!” Gahyeon screams behind her, raindrops slipping into her mouth.

Yoohyeon winces at her level in volume. She swears if Gahyeon doesn’t start working on her pitch control she’s going to make her go deaf one day.

“Shut up and run!” She tells her little cousin afterwards, not looking back; for they’re almost home.

“What do you think I’m doing? Power-walking?!” Gahyeon snaps back, aggravated as she runs closely behind her old cousin, making sure to keep a watchful eye on her; should _-God forbid-_ Yoohyeon stumble again.

“I think all that food back at the carnival is slowing you down. All that weight going straight to your slow-ass.” Yoohyeon remarks back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“Hey!” Gahyeon yells right after, somewhat hurt, but more so pissed off by the comment than anything else. _“You little shit.”_ She mutters before charging at Yoohyeon like a bull seeing red.

Yoohyeon looks back over her shoulder once she feels Gahyeon’s presence right behind her, she screams in delight, and honestly a little bit of fear--as she wills herself to run faster, squealing the whole time.

Gahyeon’s expression of wrath changes into a look of blissfulness, her lips curling upwards as she tries to grab at Yoohyeon’s jacket every now and then as she chases her in this down pouring rain, that feels so happy but with a hint of bittersweetness.

For the time will come where they no longer get to play in the rain together, and these adventures that they always seemingly shared will become nothing more than a story to remember each other by.

Gahyeon was always destined to run in the rain as she watches her older cousin’s figure somehow get smaller and smaller, while she holds onto the memories they’ve made till the day comes where they no longer can create new ones.

.

Both of their parents had found out they had snuck out that night, hard not too, considering they both came barreling through Yoohyeon’s front door, soaking wet and shivering; fearing that maybe they would suffer a wicked case of hyperthermia.

Yoohyeon’s mother and father had been waiting for them with towels at the door, followed by a long-length lecture for both of them before Gahyeon’s parents picked her up later that night. 

They both had been grounded for quite some time; their cell phones taken away, and a curfew set that both of them had to be home after school, allowing Yoohyeon to focus more on schoolwork, and Gahyeon to _-well-_ be Gahyeon still.

Their punishments had ended after Yoohyeon’s SATS and ACTS scores came back nearly perfect, along with Gahyeon doing reasonably well in her tests also.

(Gahyeon had single-handedly aced the mathematical proportions of her tests, and Yoohyeon had been so proud of her that she cried.)

.

Everything returns back to normal after that--but changes so quickly once Yoohyeon’s graduation arrives.

Yoohyeon sits in the audience of her school’s massive auditorium, alongside her fellow classmates, the school graduates of 2014.

Yoohyeon’s flawlessly blue graduation gown clings loosely to her skin and feels light in weight.

A major difference from the towels she used to wear around her clothes as a child.

She watches on, and claps politely each time her principal speaks a name into the microphone, and one of her fellow classmates walks to the stage to receive their diploma.

This goes on for at least half an hour before her name is finally called, and there’s this instant feeling of the spotlight being shined on her, for she feels like she’s being beckoned by a higher power or something.

Truthfully, it’s just this surreal feeling overthrowing all her senses.

Loud applause fills Yoohyeon’s ears as she smiles genuinely, rising from her seat before slipping past the rows of chairs; along the way her classmates, who, despite her rarely talking to them or even at all, smile at her just as genuine.

It’s kind of heartwarming.

To know that despite their differences they can all come together for once last huzzah before branching off into different paths in life.

Yoohyeon walks down the lengthy aisle way leading to the stage, her heart practically soaring in her chest as she laughs to herself.

The last four years had seemingly gone by in a blink of an eye, despite the hours being long, and the days somehow shorter.

It doesn’t really make sense, time and whatnot.

Sometimes it feels like it’s been forever, then other times it feels as if there isn’t enough time in the world.

Yoohyeon isn’t so sure she’ll ever fully grasp the concept of time, but she does know she’s spent more than enough of it here.

She’s nearly at the stage by the time she spots her family in the crowd, giving her mother, father, and Gahyeon a quick wave before she walks up the stairs leading to the stage; whose structure could outshine the grandest of stages.

The moment she’s spent the last four years working herself to the bone for; all those extracurriculars, endless amounts of AP classes, and learning all she has, in a state that ranks 39. In overall education--finally is coming to a close.

To a new beginning, for she’s off to bigger brighter things.

Yoohyeon can’t say she’ll miss high school too much, or really at all.

But there is still some bittersweetness that stirs around in her chest as she shakes the hand of her principal for the last time before he slips the diploma in her hands.

Her mother, father, and Gahyeon watch from the audience as she receives her diploma before she raises it triumphantly in the air, a huge smile engraved across her lips; prompting her mother, father, and Gahyeon, to shed happy tears as they clap louder than anyone else in the whole building.

A bittersweet contrast to when Yoohyeon used to raise sticks in the air the same way, Mina couldn’t not notice the difference.

Through the loud cheers and somehow even louder applause, Mina hears the sound of the inevitable future coming their way, like a runaway train heading right towards them; most definitely soon, to run right over her heart.

.

That was proven to be sooner rather than later.

Mina stands frozen at the mailbox, a solid white envelope addressed to her daughter from Boca University, is held within her hands. 

Her daughter has spent nearly the whole month of July by the mailbox, waiting for any sign of a college letter being sent to her, even if that had been a rejection letter. 

But Yoohyeon had always came back to the house empty-handed, a sad smile on her face as she forced herself to shake her head _“No”_ after each time her mother would ask, _“Anything?”_

But now--here it finally is, in her mother’s weakened hands. 

Mina clutches the letter to her heart, praying that for Yoohyeon’s sake that it’s good news, despite her heart threatening to give out. 

Truthfully, she didn’t want her daughter to leave.

But as a mother, Mina understands that this day was always destined to come.

Again, it all started from those stories.

***

Mina arrives at the front of her daughter’s bedroom door, rasping her knuckles softly against the frame to alert Yoohyeon of her presence, to which the young girl calls out for her to come in.

Mina ever-so-slightly opens the door, immediately she sees Yoohyeon sitting at her computer desk with her headphones on.

Yoohyeon slides her headphones down to the back of her neck, meeting her mother’s gaze with a fond smile, to which Mina returns before stepping inside her room, hesitantly closing the door behind her.

Yoohyeon’s eyebrows furrowed together as a hard knot forms in between the space of her brows. She looks at her mother curiously, noticing how seemingly weird her mother is acting. But before Yoohyeon can question her mother’s behavior, Mina is pulling out a solid white envelope from behind her back.

Yoohyeon’s heart immediately skyrockets as her mouth drops open slightly.

“It came in the mail today.” Mina informs her, walking forward slowly as Yoohyeon stares at her with so much emotion behind those big beautiful brown eyes of hers.

Yoohyeon feels almost glued to her chair, she slowly peels herself off of it before closing the distance behind her and her mother, reaching out with shaky hands to allow Mina to gently slip the envelope into her hands.

Yoohyeon exhales all the air out from within her lungs as she feels the smooth paper settled in her unbelievably shaky grasp.

It’s incredibly light, but somehow feels so heavy in her hands, as if she’s now carrying the weight of the world in her palms.

The world that she’s yearned so long for.

It’s finally here--the answer to all her wildest dreams. But this too feels like it’s all one big dream, one that she’s bound to wake up from.

Yoohyeon has to force herself to sit on the bed because of how wobbly her knees feel, as if they might give out on her any second now.

Her mother remains standing, both her hands over her mouth and nose in a manner that looks like she’s praying. 

Truthfully, Mina is holding back tears that are close to swelling up in her tired eyes, feeling a range of endless emotions over how her daughter looks so conflicted, so lost, despite this being all Yoohyeon has ever worked so hard for all these years.

Yoohyeon looks up to her, her bottom lip quivering as she shakes her head, barely noticeable. She scans her mother’s face, looking for an answer that she doesn’t even know she’s asking for.

But she stills finds it the moment that Mina tilts her chin before saying, “Go ahead...open it.” She breathes softly, there’s an airy laugh that follows after, and Yoohyeon is certain it’s her mother’s nerves getting the best of her.

Yoohyeon stares at her for just a moment longer before she slides her thumb underneath the letter, causing it to bloom open.

Her breathing quickens as she slides the letter out from it’s confinement, she stares at the folded piece of paper before bringing her hand up to her cross necklace; saying a little prayer to herself before flipping the paper open.

**_7/27/2014_ **

**_Kim Yoohyeon,_ **

**_Congratulations! You have been admitted into Boca University for the Fall 2014 semester on a fully funded scholarship! On behalf of current and past Boca University students everywhere, I warmly welcome you to Boca Nation!_ **

**_You'll be joining us at one of the most thrilling times in our history. You’ll study among students who are engaged in and out of the classroom in ways that will change the world. Each day our students are innovating - in the classroom, through research, in the community and among their peers. Driven by the idea of making the world a better place, they’re making things happen. And we can’t wait for you to join them._ **

**_You’ve been admitted to a university in a unbeatable location in the heart of South Korea’s vibrant city of Busan, boasting strong connections to hundreds of companies and organizations in the region. I’m confident you’ll thrive at this dynamic metropolitan research university filled with spirit and hard work. At Boca University, you’ll begin an adventure in a community equipped with everything you need to make your goals a reality._ **

**_Again, congratulations on your admission. I look forward to seeing you on campus soon!_ **

**_(Signature)_ **

**_Jung Jiyeon_ **

**_Director of Admissions_ ** ****

Yoohyeon sighs the biggest sigh of relief she ever has before in her entire life as warm tears fill up her eyes.

She looks up to her mother with glossy eyes, prompting Mina to take a careful step forward.

“I got in.” Yoohyeon tells her, her voice shaky and small.

A look of happy disbelief contorts Mina’s features as she rushes forward, hovering over her daughter, who looks up at her with this look that’s simply indescribable, middling somewhere between disbelief and this weight of working herself to the bone to achieve this first step finally lifted.

 _“I got in.”_ Yoohyeon breathes again. She had to say it again because it didn’t sound real the first time around.

Warm tears slip down past her eyes, coating her face before her mother wraps her into her loving embrace, her own warm tears coating her own aged cheeks.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Mina tells Yoohyeon in her ear before pressing a soft kiss there. Finally accepting that there is nothing that anyone or anything can do to stop Yoohyeon; to stop fate from seemingly doing it’s wills with her. 

Fate has proved itself to be working it’s unexplainable magic; and has been since a very long time ago.

Mina is finally able to surrender to it, for she truly is proud of the young woman Yoohyeon is becoming.

Proud that her stories counted for something.

Yoohyeon clings onto her for dear life as she cries, full of happiness; this pure joyous laughter trailing out of her lips as she spins them around in place.

Mina laughs too, but it sounds a bit too sad.

Because this means Yoohyeon will, without a shadow of a doubt, be gone soon.

.

A month later, in the blazing heat of August’s weather in Texas, the time has come.

Time for them all to say goodbye to Yoohyeon.

But the exact timing isn’t quite there yet.

For Yoohyeon is finishing up in the bathroom, making sure her long brunette hair is in place along with her passport and student visa that she’s kept stored in mint condition.

While her father and Gahyeon wait outside in the car for her and her mother, mentally preparing themselves to send Yoohyeon off at the airport.

Yoohyeon exits the bathroom, pulling at the strap of her huge duffle bag on her shoulders before a faint sound of someone shuffling around in her room, a few doors down, gains her attention.

She walks carefully to her door, notices that the door is slightly left open, and only when she’s finally standing at the frame of her door does she hear the faint sound of her mother crying.

With extreme caution she lightly presses the door open, instantly sees her mother standing at the foot of her bed, one of her old t-shirts from when she was no older than ten, clenched tightly in her mother’s hands, flushed firmly against her chest as she weeps quietly, her eyes closed; but Yoohyeon easily sees the pain riddle across her mother’s face.

Her room looks so pristine, a certain heart-rending dormancy to it even, and Yoohyeon can’t shake this feeling that the sight before her seems more like her mother grieving a immeasurable loss of her only child, than a mother who is just upset about her only child going half-way across the world on a dream that’s far too big for anyone to have.

But yet--Yoohyeon has always had it.

Her stomach turns, and her heart squeezes at the sight, and while she would like to comfort her grieving mother she knows that this was a moment she never was supposed to see.

Instead with a heavy heart, and a body that feels weaker than before, she tiptoes backwards before heading in the direction of the car waiting outside, wiping her own tears with the palms of her hands as she goes.

***

The car ride is pretty quiet for the most part, other than Gahyeon humming along with the radio, and Yoohyeon’s dad filling her in with typical: _“Once you get there, head straight to your apartment, and make sure you call us right after. It will be late by the time you arrive, and your mother and I don’t want you out galavanting around on your first day there. Settle in first, make sure that our payments went through for your bills this month, and just try to relax.”_

Yoohyeon had listened on without fail, and made sure to ease her dad’s worries, which he rarely ever showed, but now there wasn’t any point in trying to conceal it. Not when it be _-who knows how long-_ until she’d see him in person again.

Through her dad's worried-filled ramblings Yoohyeon had caught her mother’s eyes in the rear view mirror, they had looked slightly red, a little bit puffy, but there’s some bittersweet happiness somewhere in them; though it’s hard for Yoohyeon to find.

Mina smiles at her through the mirror, and Yoohyeon can see how strained it is, but she too smiles back while her heart slowly hammers away against her rib cage.

This was going to be the hardest part in starting a new beginning--to say goodbye to the stories, and the life she’s led here.

.

It’s not too long after, they all arrive at the airport. 

Yoohyeon’s father single-handedly carries all her bags, despite her disapproval.

She watches him move forward, a sad frown dragging the corners of her lips down. The way her father favors one leg more than the other has never been something she’s able to ignore.

It’s one of the major telling signs of a man whose body is relatively still young, but appears so old.

All her father has ever done is work hard to provide for his family, causing his body to look worn and weathered. But in Yoohyeon’s eyes he’ll always be the handsomest man she’s ever known--inside and out.

She might’ve never verbally expressed her gratitude towards her father for all he’s done for their humble little family, sacrificing so much just to make sure they’re all happy.

But when Yoohyeon manages to sneak a tote bag out of his callused hands, a playfully smile on her face as he protests, she silently says with her kind eyes: _I hope you know how lucky I am to have you as a father._

When her father shakes his head right after, trying to conceal a hint of a smile on his lips, Yoohyeon knows that he understood her.

Yoohyeon and her family maneuvers around the crowds of people that shuffle through the brightly lit airport. Gahyeon walks on Yoohyeon’s left side, while Mina walks on the other, with her husband leading them.

There’s a certain weird dormancy feeling that Yoohyeon can’t quite figure out. The area around her was filled to brim with people, who flowed through the white corridors like a tide. But everything felt so sluggish and bleak, and maybe _-just maybe-_ it’s the universe's way of slowing down time to prolong the dreaded goodbye. 

For goodbye is always the hardest part.

No one says anything the whole walk to her flight. They didn’t need to. Because everyone could feel what the other was feeling.

So much hope, so much heartache, and a little bit of uncertainty for the future that lies ahead.

It all started with the stories, and now life as they know it is changing because of them.

.

Yoohyeon has exactly fifteen minutes to board her flight, any more time spent than just that they’ll assign her seat to someone else.

But she’s nearly there already, standing where she needs to be as her mother and father crush her into a hug that feels far from comforting. Because it’s honestly ripping a part of her soul in half to leave them like this.

And _-God-_ she knew it would be hard, but she didn’t realize just how painful it be until she’s met with this moment, her mother repeatedly whispering how much she loves her and is proud of all her hard work, while her father pats her back like she’s his favorite fishing buddy or something.

But the moment she pulls back from them, and sees a single tear trail out of her father’s dark eye, that has always reminded Yoohyeon of a gentle teddy bear, she knows she’ll always be his little girl.

“I’m so proud of you, bud.” He confesses, and honestly it takes Yoohyeon’s breath away because this is the first time he has ever verbally expressed his pride in her.

She knows that his over-demanding work on the steel mills keeps him busy, and away from home most days, and that if he had time maybe he’d express how he felt more.

However, he’s always been sort of watchful of his feelings, opting to just go with the flow and press through life by hardwork and drive.

But the way he is looking at her now, like she’s more beautiful than all the stars, the moon, the bright sun whose warm rays shine in on them all through the huge window beside them; Yoohyeon knows that sometimes indisputable love is often found in the quietness of places--the humblest of people.

She slings her arms around his neck, clinging onto him tightly as she whispers into the crook of his neck, that smells like smoke, _“I love you, dad.”_

He wraps her into one last hug, causing both Mina and Gahyeon to smile in a way that’s aching.

“She’s got to go, Joel.” Mina speaks up after a moment, knowing that the clock is ticking down.

Joel lets go of Yoohyeon, sparing her one last one over, as if he's trying to burn this image of his beautiful daughter into his mind forever before he ruffles her hair, prompting Yoohyeon to bat his hands away while she laughs the whole time.

Her father ever-so-slightly turns away from her, and the look of him almost on the verge of tearing up again hadn’t gone unnoticed by Yoohyeon.

Her heart squeezes once again before the intercom informs that her flight will be departing soon.

Yoohyeon inhales deeply through her mouth as she spares her mother and father one last look. They look like they’re ready to let her go; though they’re truly far from it.

But they both know this time was destined to come, for one day their little girl would fly from their loving nest, and soar as far as her wings would take her.

Mina wraps a loving arm around her husband's waist, to which he pulls her close before gently kissing her temple.

Yoohyeon smiles before she turns around.

One last goodbye remains, and honestly it’s the one Yoohyeon knows will hurt her the most.

She sees Gahyeon looking like a small child, who's being told they have to leave their best friend's sleepover, or something similar to that; her eyes trained to the floor as she kicks at an invisible thing down there.

Yoohyeon slowly moves forward, prompting Gahyeon to meet her sad eyes.

When Gahyeon looks to her, Yoohyeon finally sees her heart-breaking expression that says the words that Gahyeon has never had the strength to be able to tell her outloud: _If you go now...I’m not sure when I’ll see you again, and that’s what hurts me….To let you go without knowing when we’ll be together again._

Yoohyeon closes the distance between them, hot tears coating the sides of her face as she wraps Gahyeon into a warm embrace that feels so tragic; but it’s all she can do to try and comfort the both of them.

Gahyeon shakes uncontrollably in her arms as she cries into the crook of Yoohyeon’s neck.

Yoohyeon pulls her impossibly closer before whispering in her ear, _“Wait for me.”_

A sea might keep them apart, but this alliance that Yoohyeon swore to Gahyeon would always conquer the strongest of tides.

She pulls back from her younger cousin, painfully parting from her slowly before she has no choice other than to say goodbye.

But Yoohyeon doesn’t say goodbye, not even as she walks away from her family, she just sends them a smile and a small wave--that says: _Until I see you all again._

Her family watches her go, watching Yoohyeon carry her hopeful heart on her sleeve as she steps into the first path that leads to her new life.

Mina smiles wistfully.

It all started with her stories. 

***

 **_“All of this turbulence wasn’t forecasted, our apologies.”_ ** Speaks the intercom from the plane.

Yoohyeon sits in the chair closest to the window as she bounces ever-so-slightly in her seat, as if she was driving across a gravel road and not experiencing some wicked turbulence.

Honestly it’s kind of scary, and she’s trying to not think about the worst case scenario; that being the plane crashing, thus killing everyone on board.

It’s unrealistic, and highly morbid; but still scary nonetheless.

Yoohyeon closes her eyes, and thinks about the time when Gahyeon had rocked that cart with them in it back on that Ferris wheel. 

Gahyeon had been wrong, plane turbulence most definitely doesn’t feel like that, and she certainly didn’t prepare Yoohyeon enough for the real deal.

However, Yoohyeon imagines that she's sitting back in that cart with Gahyeon next to her, and suddenly everything feels like it’s going to be alright.

.

Several tedious hours later, Yoohyeon is standing outside the airport waiting for her taxi--finally in the spot where she’s supposed to be.

South Korea.

Finally here, and it’s quite literally everything she’s ever imagined and hoped for it to be.

She had seen some of the exquisite scenery through the window of the plane. A alluring diaphanous glow of neon lights shining down below, and massive mountains that ranged across the landscape, in a manner that’s so powerful it stole Yoohyeon’s breath away. 

Pictures could never compare, and this feeling stirring up from within her chest _-God-_ is something else entirely. 

Yoohyeon lets out this long held squeal of joy as she spins around in place, looking like some little girl; with a heart that forever will be hopeful.

.

Despite the feeling of being adventurous, and maybe even somewhat reckless, Yoohyeon sticks to her word, choosing not to roam around the breathtaking city of Busan, opting to spend her first night in South Korea at her new little humble abode. 

(One that her parents are paying for until she graduates.)

A small but at least aesthetically pleasing apartment. All white walls and beige curtains, with one stunning window view of the whole city right in the middle of her living room. 

Sure, the kitchen’s small, and the bathroom is even smaller.

But to Yoohyeon her new home is worth all its weight in gold.

.

She calls her family later that night after unpacking and settling down, they answer on the first ring.

She tells them everything, how the plane ride went, how South Korea is far more prettier in person, how her apartment, despite being small already feels welcoming.

She also tells them the story of her taxi ride. Despite practicing/learning Korean for the last four years her pronunciation had failed her several times along the ride, to which the driver noticed and for her sake, or maybe even his own, he tried his best to converse with her in English before they both went silent somewhere along the ride to her apartment. It had been cringey and awkward, but she survived the first few trying hours of being in a foreign country; so that counts for something? 

Her mother had ensured it did, along with her dad, and Gahyeon, who had practically screamed how proud she was of Yoohyeon over the phone; everyone had winced at her volume.

.

Later, after the phone call, Yoohyeon steps towards the stunning view of the living room window, presses her fingers against the glass in awe, her heart impossibly full; not knowing that somewhere in the far distance someone does the same, their heart unbelievably empty.

.

When Yoohyeon finally sleeps later that night, she dreams of South Korea, and a home that she’s longed to make here.

***

It’s the next day, and Yoohyeon’s heart is undeniably hopeful as she roams every corner of the city in Busan.

Maybe she looks a little crazed, at least from a passerby’s point of view.

For Yoohyeon leaps across tiny stones lining streams, each leap she takes, leaps her heart too. 

She takes pictures of everything and anything, looking like some tourist and not a future permanent resident. She doesn't mind, others do.

But she doesn’t know that yet, too busy caught up in the world that’s beckoned her since the age of five; everything feels like her mother’s stories, bright, beautiful, and full of wonder; nothing feels wrong, not yet anyways, eventually; just not now.

Not when her heart is experiencing all it’s ever truly wanted. 

.

Days pass, and Yoohyeon's heart is always just as hopeful.

Even when she learns that most people in South Korea speak with slang when not speaking at utmost formal, it’s not like her slight Texan draw or how when she speaks English she always draws out the ‘en’ in words because her accent demands it. The locals here sometimes shorten vowels and talk much faster than any of Yoohyeon’s lessons within the Korean language ever did, she tries to keep up with them, but her words fumble, and sometimes die in her throat. She still speaks somewhat comprehendible for them, and she most definitely should be able to carry conversations, despite her word vomit.

However, most simply giggle at her slip ups and move on, most being polite and understanding that she’s at least trying to talk to them in their mother language; others switch to English afterwards, opting to try their best to converse in her own mother language than to watch her struggle. Should the truth be known it’s only because her nerves keep getting the best of her, her tongue had felt loose, and her words came out shaky and uneven, but at least she tired--she always did. 

Maybe that’s what slightly kills her inside every time someone switches to English, it’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it because she does, or when others just walk away, a bewildered look on their faces, as if she was joking or mocking them; she wants to say: _Please, I’m trying. Don’t undermine me before you haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself to you._

But she never does, she simply smiles, though it’s always a little sad, and moves on because that’s all she can do.

.

She learns within a month that people in South Korea do not smile at each other in passing. Unfortunately, it’s one of those force of habits that she’s been doing since she was old enough to know the different in being polite and the difference in being rude; but here in South Korea it’s never rude, nor polite to smile at strangers in passing, it’s actually considered weird or more commonly a mistaken case of, _Do I know you?_

Yoohyeon has to teach herself not to smile at strangers in passing, and to keep her head down when moving forward, quite different from all she’s ever known; it makes her heart tick away, but she doesn’t feel the immeasurable hope she carries slowly lessen, eventually she will, but not now.

Not when all she’s ever been is hopeful, maybe even naive; but that’s what makes her beautiful in a world that has been ugly far much longer than what it has been realistic. 

***

Months later, leading into Yoohyeon’s first semester at Boca university, her heart is still hopeful.

She spends her first day getting show around the campus, meeting her teachers, and roaming the small white hallways that don’t remind her of home, far too elegant, far too the same, like white picket fences; everything here is orderly and matched, there’s no room for anything different, and with her slipping in between the gaps from within the fences people know that she’s from the other side. Most of them stray away from her, others are captivated by not how original, if not a breath of fresh air she is, but by how entirely different she is from them. 

Eventually the curious approach her, but it’s always the same.

 _“What’s America like?”_ \- _“I’ve always wanted to try the hamburgers there!”_ \- _“I love western music!” - “So, you're from the west, like a cowgirl, right? I’ve watched those American western movies before. Is that what it's like?!”_ \- _”I’ve read some news articles before about the US. America seems unruly, would you agree?” - “I’ve thought about studying over there. But I could never live there. You’ll have to fill me in on how it is.”_

_America. America. America._

It’s all they want to know, it’s all they liken her too.

Never do they ask: _“What’s your hobbies?”_ \- _“What’s your favorite color?”_ \- _“Do you like the food here?”_ \- _“What made you want to come to South Korea?”_ \- _“Are you settling in okay?”_ \- _“Do you miss your family?”_

They never want to know about her, just what they think she is.

But Yoohyeon is just Yoohyeon, and she really wishes people would see her as she is, and not what they deem her to be.

.

It’s much later when she learns what it is they deem her to be, after her novelty wears off and the people here don’t even so much as give her a second thought, let alone talk to her.

However, they do talk about her.

Through gossip and whispered presumptions, most would call it denigration, back-biting even; Yoohyeon would say they’re judgemental because they don’t know any better. She believes the world is inherently good and so are most of its inhabitants; what she doesn’t understand herself is that sometimes people are just inherently bad, especially the ones who say the senseless things they do about her.

Some call her white-washed, others call her FOB.

But Yoohyeon has always been just Yoohyeon.

So just like what Yoohyeon would do, she ignores the judgement sent her way, and moves on because that’s all she can do.

.

Yoohyeon spends the rest of the year excelling in school, keeping to herself, and calling her family every chance she gets; they always tell her how proud of her they are, and how much they love her even more. It brings this comfort that only home can have to Yoohyeon’s heart; and all those nights she sleeps after talking with her family, she dreams of Mina, Joel, and Gahyeon, a drastic change from when she used to just dream of life here in South Korea.

She’s not sure which one beckons her more now, America or South Korea? But she does feel like she doesn’t belong in either, like both of them have no more room for someone like her; a girl with impossible dreams, a childish demeanor, and a heart that still feels hope in a place that carries none for her.

***

It’s two Januarys later, and Yoohyeon’s heart is still hopeful, but it feels slightly different, like it’s getting tired; but she keeps it wide awake because she doesn’t have time to rest yet, doesn’t have the wearisome in her to allow her hope to be taken from her, not yet anyways; but eventually. 

Not when all she’s trying to do is finish up her last semesters here at Boca university.

She is spending another one of her afternoons in class listening to another history lecture before her teacher ever-so-slightly starts to divert from the main lesson, promoting her to fully give her utmost attention, not that she wasn’t paying attention before, she was--just slightly less. After attending this class for over the last two years now, and excelling at it without much worry, Yoohyeon has sort of developed a habit for day dreaming every now and then.

But now, she’s fully captivated. 

She always was a sucker for a good story. 

“There’s an old folklore about the Ketsueki shrine, located within the South Gyeongsang province in a farming village once known as Shoganai. Named after the Japanese term: _“It can’t be helped.”_ The naming of the village actually came from a Japanese philosopher, who after learning of South Korea’s failed peace treaty with China when ruled under the Qing dynasty had deemed the country as unable to be helped. While he was later proven to be wrong...at the time the name was quite fitting for that village specifically.” The teacher informs, only stopping once he notices a student’s hand is raised. He gestures for the boy to answer his question, much to his own dislike.

“Seonsaeng-nim, I’ve never seen Shoganai in our history books. Does this village still exist?” 

“That’s what I’m about to get to.” The teacher replies bluntly before leaning on his desk in front of the class, a certain glint in his eyes. 

A look that Yoohyeon recognizes as one of a story-teller. 

“The old folklore goes as told before. Our ancestors of this land had extended an offer of peace to those that ruled over China. But this offer was not known to the general public. For our ancestors had planned a night in secrecy where a ceremony was to take place at the Ketsueki shrine. Two powerful families were involved in the extending of the olive branch, and should this ceremony go off without a hitch...South Korea and China would no longer be at war.”

Yoohyeon leans slightly forward in her seat, enthralled.

“The ceremony was fabled to be some sort of an ascension. It was said that several woman from the village of Shoganai and the heiress of a powerful Korean family was to take part in this ascension, along with a Chinese noblewoman, who was said to be a direct descendant from Xuanye, who was the third Emperor of the Qing dynasty.” The teacher explains, looking around to his students to make sure all eyes were on him--they are.

“In the lores it is believed that these women were to perform for the men and elders of both countries in hopes of pleasing them. Tales of these women's performances vary depending on who's telling the story. However, most commonly known is that these women danced with folding fans through fire...The dance of the dragons they called it.”

Yoohyeon listens on, in complete awe. Images of beautiful women dancing through flames, flashes in her overly imaginative mind, captivating dark eyes peering into her viewpoint while flames shoot up in the background, as if she was watching a movie. 

She’s teetering between listening on, and getting lost in her own reverie, like how she used to do when her mother had told stories.

“It was said that the women’s performances brought tears as much as it did fear into the men’s hearts. They were pleased greatly by this. A alliance between the two nations was looking more than possible “

The teacher stops, letting the room veer into this long ominous pause.

Yoohyeon leans even further forward in her seat, waiting with bated breath.

“Now this is where the story takes a turn.” The teacher speaks once more, his voice echoing throughout the quiet classroom like low thunder.

“To test the ancestors’ judgment the men had pre-planned a ritual to evoke the ancestors’ spirits....Legends say the elders brought before the women a white horned serpent whose eyes shined a brighter yellow than what the moon ever could, and it’s venom was far more deadlier than that of any viper.”

Images of white scales, and demonic looking horns that crowns the top of the snake’s head; flashes inside of Yoohyeon’s mind, causing her to shudder as her heart begins to race from within her chest, anxiety pumping in her blood.

“The elders had agreed that if the snake slithers through each of the women’s hands without biting them, then it was their ancestors’ judgment for them to finally declare peace with one another.”

Yoohyeon sees images of the various women kneeling at the shrine, their palms spread open in a cupping motion as the serpent is brought before them.

“But as you probably already guess...that ritual went very wrong.”

Yoohyeon gasps softly, troubled by her teacher’s words.

“The folklore tells that the serpent had moved through each of the woman's hands before it reached the final set….The hands of the heiress. Once in her hands the serpent immediately struck, biting into the heiress’s soft skin.”

Images of the snake coiling tightly around the woman’s wrist before biting her, latching it’s sharp fangs into the heiress’s polished skin as she screams in unbelievable pain and fear; flashes in Yoohyeon’s mind.

Yoohyeon’s heart squeezes as she tries to swallow the hard lump wedged firmly in the middle of her throat. 

Her classmates squirm anxiously, maybe even uncomfortably, in their seats as the teacher no longer rests his weight on his desk, opting to slowly pace around in the front of the class; a serious look in his eyes.

“In an attempt to somehow help the heiress the Chinese woman was said to have pried off the snake’s hold on the heiress, thus leading the snake to attack her too.”

Yoohyeon sees the image of the Chinese woman grabbing the snake by its neck, squeezing tight until it releases its hold on the heiress. Impossibly loud screams of the other woman fill up Yoohyeon's mind before she sees the snake strike at the Chinese woman, latching it’s fangs into her wrist in one swift motion.

“The legend ends with both women suffering a fate worse than death, for the venom was said to be one of the most excruciating pains to have to endure. The elders, men, and remaining women had left the two women to die at the shrine. Hence why it is rumored that Ketsueki shrine is called the shrine of blood. As far as the village goes it’s said that after the ceremony the men from China had burned the whole place to the ground after losing one of their own in South Korea. In their eyes she had died in vain.”

Yoohyeon sees the powerful images of an untamable wave of violet flames, swallowing the village whole; scorning it black until there was nothing left but heavy ashes and an untraceable memory of what used to be. 

“If we go into a deeper understanding of the story, one could suggest that China and South Korea were doomed to forever remain at war. While others have noted that perhaps the Chinese woman’s attempt to save the heiress was signifying that despite their differences the good in our hearts outweighs the blinded hatred formed by others.” The teacher enlightens his students, with that same look in his eyes from before; as if he truly believes in the story in which he just told.

However, most of the students seem more lost than before, except Yoohyeon.

Yoohyeon understands the slight implication of prejudice under tones from within the story, resonates with them even.

But what truly gets her is the flames from the story, the way it was told with such burning passion; the fabled flames themselves; wrapping around her body, scorning her entire-being, as it crackles under the heat from the ignited kindling from within her heart; hissing lowly: _Believe me._

Yoohyeon has always found herself believing in the unbelievable.

If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be where she’s at now.

One of Yoohyeon’s classmates raises their hand, prompting the teacher to signal for the young woman to ask her question.

“Seonsaeng-nim, this story is no more than a folklore, isn’t it? Another tale to teach people the harm behind war that often goes unnoticed?”

The teacher seems offended by her question, fixing her with a look that has her gawking in uncertainty.

“The Ketsueki shrine is very much a real place though, is it not?” He challenges back, his voice firm, but not harsh.

“Y-yes, Seonsaeng-nim, but these legends are no more than hearsay, a story to tell. They can’t be real, can they?” She questions, her voice smaller than before.

The teacher stares pointedly at her before speaking, “Stories are made up from inspiration that has been obtained somewhere.” He replies, stopping only to lock eyes with Yoohyeon.

Yoohyeon instantly sees the image of that woman’s captivating dark eyes peering into her thoughts once more, the fire she holds behind those darken eyes burns hotter than what any flame ever could, leaving Yoohyeon sweating.

“So who are we to say they don’t hold some truth?”

Yoohyeon blinks the second after those words leave her teacher’s mouth, coinciding perfectly with him dismissing class for the day.

Every student rushes to gather their things, relieved to be able to go home now after spending nearly half the day on campus.

Yoohyeon however, remains stumped in her chair, a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders, maybe from all this new knowledge she’s learned--or maybe from gaining a new burden that she comprehends not. 

.

To escape her scary thoughts of blood shrines, cursed snakes, and dark captivating eyes that sear the inside of her mind, Yoohyeon opens up Skype, after returning home from school, and clicks a familiar name.

Gahyeon picks up on the second ring, her face soft in a youth Yoohyeon never has forgotten.

Peace washes over Yoohyeon, like drops of gentle rain, and she doesn’t remember the isolation; the disconnect from people who look just like her but are far from the same. She doesn't recall the nights she’s slept long enough to not be able to dream. She doesn’t feel her heart calling her home, in a session of quiet sobs and a tired: _You can’t do this anymore._

With Gahyeon it’s easy to forget what they have grown into and just be what they once were.

Yoohyeon shortly talks about her days and how she is holding up before longly asking how her favorite person is. She asks about everything and anything to extend this time that will come to an end like all the other times had before.

But Yoohyeon doesn’t think that way, not allowing mind over matter, not when her heart has always controlled all she is, and ever will be. Instead she’s taken up by the cute short-hair blonde that Gahyeon, eventually, forces on camera, revealing herself as Gahyeon’s girlfriend, Yubin.

Yoohyeon sees the kindness behind Yubin’s shy eyes, sees the endearment that is stronger, behind uncertain words and stolen glances to the pink haired girl that now undoubtedly has her heart. 

Yoohyeon definitely likes Yubin, she finds her calm demeanor to be comforting, even through a laptop screen that keeps them divided.

Yoohyeon thinks about how Gahyeon has now kissed a girl before she has, thinks even harder about how Gahyeon was known to love too fast, a flame she burns too hot, but extinguishes faster; for she’s young and in times of youthfulness everything feels like forever but never lasted that long.

But now since two years have passed, Gahyeon is nineteen, out of school, working some mediocre job at a pizza place, being the perfect girlfriend, and just trying to survive newfound adulthood as a whole; juggling all that while she goes to college to get the required education to become a mathematician.

By all means she’s still so young, her face loaded with youthfulness; but to Yoohyeon she looks older, different even.

She doesn’t look like the same Gahyeon that sneaks out late at night or opts to spend all her time hanging out with people she no longer is even around; and she definitely doesn’t look like the same Gahyeon that loves too recklessly and crashes hard because of it.

It’s scary as it is amazing, and Yoohyeon wonders, just briefly, what Gahyeon sees when she looks back at her.

Does she still see that same eighteen year old Yoohyeon that held impossible, but possible dreams from within her heart? A girl that loved stories and believed in the magic behind them? Or does she see the twenty year old Yoohyeon that’s slowly getting tired, and does her little cousin notice that when she fidgets with the gold cross necklace around her neck she holds it with less strength than what she had before?

(Gahyeon does notice, always has.)

.

Some odd hours, spent laughing and just simply enjoying each other's presence, pass. The whole time Yoohyeon had counted how many times Yubin had looked at Gahyeon with stars in her eyes and love swelling in her chest--she stopped counting after reaching hundred.

Yubin seems like fate’s perfect choice when match-making her with the likes of the uncontrollable loud fury that is Gahyeon, pairing them as the sea to it’s powerful tide, the rock to the earth's foundation in which it holds, the warmth behind the flame; a girl with a wild heart that stampedes into flumes in which she shouldn’t because it’s easy to drown when the heart has no other choice to, and a girl who knows how to lasso her out of the deepest of waters, resuscitating a wild heart that no longer feels reckless.

Yoohyeon is happy that Gahyeon never collected that quarterback’s jersey, instead she was gifted with a heart that would forever cherish her, and protect her since Yoohyeon could no longer.

Yubin waves a shy goodbye, opting to let Gahyeon and Yoohyeon share their goodbye with just one another, for she knows how intimate these things are.

But it’s never goodbye between those two, just another -- _see you later_ , so the two girls never utter those words. Instead, in the heavy silence, and even heavier exchange of tired eyes, Gahyeon speaks without words, eyes shimmering with understanding that Yoohyeon never wanted her to learn: _Just know, you can come home any time._

Yoohyeon smiles, resigned, before whispering a soft, _“I love you.”_ to which Gahyeon returns just as soft, before they both hang up.

Yoohyeon knows she can.

But she cannot. 

***

It’s January, and Yoohyeon’s heart is still somewhat hopeful, but veering backwards into a direction to which it’s never been before.

Months ago, she graduated college with honors, with a freshly printed bachelor’s degree in criminology and a minor in anthropology; three years worth of gnarled out limbs, a weathered, tired out mind; full of all the knowledge she wanted to know, and has paid a price to obtain, a piece of herself she’ll never get back, and a hopeful heart that doesn’t leap out of her chest in the same blissfulness as it had before.

It’s not as naive, but not nearly as accustomed either.

It’s still soft, fragile, and smoothed of the rough jaded edges that threatened to erupt with sharp points at one time.

She knows more than she ever has before, a gift as it is a curse. Naively enough, if not just once again hopeful, she chooses to believe there’s still some good in the world she chose to live in.

Even as the man looking all her paperwork, her requirements for good conduct, basic cultural knowledge, which she’s more than intermediate in; her ability to maintain a living, which she’s proven herself capable of within the last three years, and her late great grandmother’s birth certificate proving that Yoohyeon’s family has ties that once remained here.

The man slides back her ID card with the words: **_Alien Registration Card_** _,_ flaunting it’s blue lettering in Yoohyeon’s face; a written reminder of how different she’ll always be from them.

Even the man before her holds a look in his eyes that screams silently, full of prejudice: _You make look like us, be you will never truly be like us_ , a visual reminder that she’s seen far too many times; one she always tries to erase out of the darkest corners of her mind.

Because again, she’s hopeful, but tired.

.

A month later, Yoohyeon gets her citizenship from acknowledgement.

But not through all her years of endless hard work, tears she shed in frustration, and nights she’s spent without any sleep at all.

Through acknowledgement of what she could’ve been, but never will be.

A made citizen from her great grandmother’s birth records.

It feels fulfilling to finally have what she wanted, but it’s not enough; and it comes at a cost.

Yoohyeon eventually, she has a year, will have to renounce her nationtality to complete successful naturalization. Of course she’s going to, she’s come so far not to. But it feels wrong, like she’s tossing out the last puzzle piece of what makes her whole, and replacing it with a different piece from an entirely different puzzle.

It’s not right, but it works.

And it will always be another painful reminder that ‘ _You make look like us, be you will never truly be like us.’_

Yoohyeon just hopes that maybe one day she’ll be enough; and that she eventually forgets how when she graduated from college her fellow classmates didn’t smile genuinely at her. They hadn’t acted happy that all of them has came together for one last huzzah before branching off; it had always been about competition, who can go further than the other, and who is left behind to rot.

She knows it’s nothing personal, it’s just how it is. But that doesn’t mean it should be.

Yoohyeon hopes that she eventually forgets that when receiving her bachelor's degree she didn’t raise it in the air triumphantly, a huge smile on her face. _No_ , she had done a perfect ninety degree bow and kept her face stonewall because that’s what's expected.

She knows it’s just the culture, there’s nothing wrong with how it is. But others, the worst kinds of people, expected her to be all and not some; a change needed from something that is irrevocable. There is nothing but selfishness, in expecting a change in a girl that does not need changing. 

Yoohyeon hopes that she eventually forgets that she doesn’t smile at strangers at all; and hopes that she forgets she had lost her voice for days after practicing her Korean, perfecting it so she never slips up again.

Most would say it’s the cost of progress, Yoohyeon would say it’s the cost to try and fit in.

Yoohyeon hopes that she eventually forgets what it’s like to have a heart that doesn’t feel as hopeful as it did.

She hopes that one day it will feel whole again.

.

Months later, after renouncing her nationality, Yoohyeon is now a South Korea citizen, and a police officer in training.

She learns on her first day at the academy that everything is different, but exactly the same as it had been in college; another repeat of all she’s endured there.

She knows enough now to put her head down, and struggle silently again for another two more years.

***

It’s two Januarys later, and Yoohyeon's heart is just there within her chest, beating as normal as everyone else’s does.

After spending the last two years training to be an officer; rotating all throughout South Korea on manual training procedures, she’s seen it all. City after city, countryside after countryside; cherry blossom trees that weren’t nearly as large as her mother fabled them to be, still waters in rivers that run too cold, shrines and history that she’s learned from, and gain value from within her wisdom; to which no one here wants to hear.

But within those two excruciating long years she hardly took any pictures, maybe a few here and there, but mostly she’s captured those images of South Korea in her mind and burned them in there, in a way that stings for her to think about; like they’re all tainted by black ink and dirty water. 

Months ago she graduated from KNPU, two years earlier than most, an exception made due to her college credits, most of her previous freshman officers are still waiting until February in the next two years for graduation; Yoohyeon feels pity for them, despite their differences. But truthfully she’s put in more than her fair share of work. She’s practically a worn out oxen; having plowed through the steepest of mud and fallen in it a lot more, having stumbled by the pressure that never did let off until the job was done; and no one, not once, helped her up. 

She had always risen on unsteady muddy knees, and a heart that was so tired, but had to keep going. She’s learned a lot about hard work, and how it works a person until they’re just as hardened.

In those times she would often think about her dad, how they both work themselves until their hands were numb and until their shoulders are weighed down from all in which they pack. She thinks how work has kept them busy, busy enough to not have time to eat, busy enough to not think about how they haven’t eaten; busy enough to not think about how work is all they know, all they can contribute too because feelings don’t matter, even though they work the flesh off their bones and reveal a heart that just wants to feel something more all the body knows.

She fully understands now why her dad never spoke about his feelings more. Because in life people are conditioned to think that such matters are not important; hard work keeps people moving forward, their heart just slows them down.

But Yoohyeon’s heart is all that’s ever kept her going.

As much as it also got her in trouble.

A little over a month ago, after being reassigned partner to partner, tossed aside when she doesn’t meet their standards of what they think she should be; Yoohyeon had finally spoken out of her heart after hearing: “ _She has no respect for me!”_ A blatant lie, one she’s heard been told too many times before.

 _“Because where I’m from it isn’t freely given but earned!”_ She had yelled, like a sharp whistle from a boiling hot kettle, but it didn’t sound as angry. It sounded sad, desperate even; one last final plea for them to understand, yes, she is not like them but she had tried every way in the world for them to accept her as she has always accepted them.

She remembers how they had looked at her, their faces accusing her of blasphemy, looks of: _Do you even know where you are now?_

Of course she did, for the last four years most, not all, have made her painfully aware of where she is at; drilling it into her head like a tune from a song she’ll always remember, in a manner that makes her grind her teeth. But _-God-_ she refuses to allow them to make her bitter. Instead she’ll allow her heart to get walked all over, so when she rises again from the mud one day; maybe someone will see her for all she is, not all she’ll never be able to be.

.

Now it all comes back full circle--a new beginning to her story.

Yoohyeon fidgets with her cross necklace, moving it side to side as her eyes stay trained on the ground, dark hardwood flooring and the numerous dark lines within it keep her anxious gaze; her teeth itching as she listens to paperwork being shuffled quietly in front of her.

There’s a soft _‘hm’_ that vibrates from her new commissioner's throat, causing Yoohyeon to glance back up at her, despite the woman radiating off this powerful aura, like heat from fire; scalding over Yoohyeon’s skin in a way that leaves her terrified.

Yoohyeon looks hesitantly from behind her long lashes at the woman sitting behind the desk in front of her, _Bae Joohyun,_ her new leading head of authority.

The woman is undeniably beautiful, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her bangs perfectly cut, framing the top of her forehead, elegantly refined; her features are soft, sealed into this youthful beauty, despite being in her mid thirties; if Yoohyeon had to guess. Her dark eyes are shaped in a way that reminds Yoohyeon of a tiger, beautiful but there's a certain dangerous look behind them; as if the woman held the same acuity and clandestine of said cat.

There’s so much power behind Joohyun that when she inhales lightly, Yoohyeon’s breath hitches.

To Yoohyeon, Bae Joohyun seems like she belongs in K-dramas or even, at one point, an idol. Her beauty is truly unreal, and it seems kind of strange for someone with her looks to be fitted into the job she has. It’s a shallow way of thinking, Yoohyeon knows that; she chastises herself right after for thinking that way.

But she is only human, after all; and Bae Joohyun is a drastic change from all the old men that Yoohyeon has served under. 

For Bae Joohyun had taken over as chief of police in the city of Busan a few months before Yoohyeon would be forced to transfer from the station in Muan all the way back to where she first landed in South Korea. It would’ve been funny with how that worked, had it not been for her less than ideal reasoning coming back here.

“It says here your commanding officer signed you off the station in Muan because of insubordination, but it doesn’t state what orders you failed to follow.” Joohyun addresses more then asks, but when her piercing dark eyes lock with Yoohyeon’s timid ones it’s clear she wants Yoohyeon to explain herself.

Yoohyeon’s mouth drops open ever-so-slightly, her lips quivering as she shifts nervously in her seat. “I-I followed all my orders in my time spent at Muan...I was signed off from Muan because of a incident with a fellow officer.” She admits, her voice incredibly small.

Joohyun scans her demeanor, trailing her own dark eyes over Yoohyeon’s trembling form before she looks back at the paperwork; her face stonewalled. “That incident being?”

Yoohyeon’s heart sinks to the lowest pit in her stomach before she gulps, loud enough that her commissioner hears it, prompting her to look at Yoohyeon once more.

“We had gotten into an argument.” Yoohyeon informs. Joohyun instantly looks displeased, the corners of her lips drop into a hard set frown as she leans backwards into her seat more, but she doesn’t say anything; and Yoohyeon takes the opportunity to try and explain herself.

“Him and I never really saw eye to eye, and there had always been a barrier between us because of our cultural background. One day he made a comment…” Yoohyeon’s words die on her lips, that’s not the right word and she knows it; she shakes her head right after before continuing, “He lied about me. He said I wasn’t respectful of him, and that wasn’t the first time that he had said that….but it was the last time I allowed him too.”

Yoohyeon can see the commissioner arch a single brow from behind her bangs, but other than that Joohyun looks just as serious as before; it’s honestly nerve-racking how she’s able to appear so emotionless.

Yoohyeon darts the tip of her tongue out to wet her cracked lips before inhaling a shaky breath of air through her mouth. “I told him that where I’m from respect isn’t freely given but earned.” 

Joohyun doesn’t break her hard stare, instead something flickers through her unreadable dark eyes, that Yoohyeon swears is amusement; only because she doesn’t know that it’s actually respect. 

The corners of Joohyun’s lips curl ever-so-slightly into a smirk, but it goes unnoticed because she’s quick to set her features back into professionalism. She hums softly again, acknowledging her new officer’s claims before scanning back over the paperwork.

“Well, what’s done is done.” Joohyun breathes, her features still masking indifference. 

Yoohyeon isn’t sure what to think of her commissioner's response, she’s left gawking, in the most subtle way that her body will allow her to be as she remains quiet, figuring it’s safer to remain quiet until she’s addressed once more. That’s what she’s always done before anyways; and if it keeps the very, very, intimidating woman before her undisturbed Yoohyeon will happily keep her mouth shut.

Joohyun once again, while undeniably beautiful and powerfully so, that Yoohyeon may or may not have trailed her eyes down the dip of Joohyeon’s white collared shirt and _-Yeah, no-_

 _Entirely hot last, and extremely terrifying first._ Yoohyeon reminds herself. If only Gahyeon knew, she’d have a field day with this. 

“Moving forward I expect to see you keeping on your best behavior, I’d hate to see an officer with your credentials burn out before she can truly shine.”

Yoohyeon loses her breath in one shaky unsuppressable exhale. Her commissioner’s words, while hinted without being directly said, sounded like some form of acceptance; and to Yoohyeon’s heart it kind of feels like dying, like a breath of relief from weakened lips and a worn out body that finally feels some peace.

Yoohyeon bows slightly in her seat, overfilled with gratitude. A happy, but kind of sad, smile curling at her lips as she looks to the floor again, too scared to see her commissioner’s piercing gaze.

Yoohyeon doesn’t know that Joohyun for the first time looks at her with softness in her eyes.

Joohyun doesn’t see the officer before her as some disrespectful American, a girl forced to abide by the country's ways and order because she has no other choice to. No, she sees a young woman who, from the sounds of it, and even with how she had carried herself from the moment they met, trembling and looking at her with scared uncertain eyes, has been treated unfairly; and perhaps has never been given the benefit of the doubt.

Joohyun is willing to be the first to give Yoohyeon just that.

“Now that all is in order. I suggest settling in for the day, make sure your new desk chair is cozy enough for you.”

Yoohyeon looks back up to her, Joohyun’s features are passive once again; Yoohyeon doesn’t mind. Because right now she honestly feels like crying.

“Okay.” She sighs, relieved, happy, or whatever to call this feeling of finally being valued.

Joohyun dismisses her after, and Yoohyeon is nearly out of her office by the time she calls to her, realizing mildly. “I forgot to inform you that I preassigned your partner before your arrival here. She’ll be in later this afternoon. I’m sure it will be nice to have someone show you around better?” It’s a lie, but one Joohyun tells with pure intentions.

Truthfully she hadn’t preassigned Yoohyeon a partner, that was something originally she was going to assign at a later time. But after hearing the young woman’s struggles, without knowing just how deep they run, Joohyun felt truly sorry for her.

Maybe her plans, more so her ideal candidate to become Yoohyeon’s partner, is a little _-well-_ nuts, but Joohyun has a very good feeling that her choice will be the perfect fit for Yoohyeon; and by the very off chance that her choice isn’t, Joohyun is willing to deal with the headache.

She’s sure to get one later anyways, that _woman_ really needs to work on her volume control, and Joohyun swears to all that is holy, if _she_ comes in again without following uniform code, she’ll most definitely fly off the handle.

Yoohyeon nods her head, forging a tight-lipped smile only because she’s not sure what to say, nor does she want to straight up just say: _Nah, I think assigning me a partner is most likely not going to go over well._ It wouldn’t be a lie. After all it seems like that’s where her problems start and quickly end afterwards. After dealing with several partners changes throughout the years before leading to the final one that broke the camel's back, Yoohyeon isn’t really holding out hope for this new one to be any better than the rest. But she’s also not in a position to tell Joohyun otherwise, and once again. She really, really doesn’t want to see how her commissioner looks when she’s angry. That woman is already bone chilling normally, Yoohyeon doesn’t even want to imagine what she looks like furious.

.

Yoohyeon learns that same day what Commissioner Bae Joohyun looks like when she’s furious. 

She sees it the moment the double doors to the detectives and officers' working area fling open and some tiny, but seemingly loud, woman comes barreling through.

All eyes land on the woman, Yoohyeon is the only one who looks completely stunned by her; everyone else goes back to their own business a moment after. 

But Yoohyeon is captivated. 

Yoohyeon takes in the woman’s appearance right away. She’s clothed in dark blue jeans and a worn out chic brown leather jacket, cinched perfectly at her waist; Yoohyeon manages to make out the woman’s navy blue collared shirt, not tucked in and no formal tie in sight, and her police badge pinned on the left side of her shirt.

The woman flips her long brunette hair behind her shoulders, the shade of her hair color reminds Yoohyeon of the warmest shades of brown from within the fall; like the color of burning cinnamon, her soft locks of hair looks so pretty--as does she.

The sun from the windows of the room shine in on her, making her lightly sun-kissed skin glisten. It’s like she holds this untamable beauty, like a wild mustang running through a desert field, kicking up so much dirt and dust, unconcerned. She carries this wild aura around her, but even stronger does she hold this feeling of immense freedom.

Yoohyeon doesn’t know, not yet, but soon; that this woman would also come barreling through into her life, rolling like heavy thunder, and striking a new kind of life into her again, like powerful violet lighting.

She’s so strong, unstoppable even.

She’s everything Yoohyeon needs at this time in her life, for she’s a heavy rainstorm after years of living in a sorrowful drought.

The moment their eyes meet, Yoohyeon feels the first raindrop touch her heart.

The woman’s eyes are almost as piercing as Joohyun's own, but there’s a certain softness to her that Yoohyeon can see even from all the way over where she is sitting.

For the first time in a very long time Yoohyeon smiles out of politeness, and the woman instantly returns it, her smile just as genuine.

Yoohyeon's heart leaps from within her chest.

 _“KIM BORA!”_ Joohyun comes storming out of her office the moment after, trembling in anger as she stands perfectly still at the frame of her office’s door.

The look of sheer rage on Joohyun’s face would be comical if Yoohyeon wasn’t so terrified of her. Joohyon looks almost as if she can't believe that she herself is so angry, her mouth agape slightly while she breathes in shallow intakes of air, her eyebrows are furrowed together as a very hard knot forms in between the space of her brows. What truly gives her anger away, minus the whole trembling in fury, that she’s most definitely going to release shortly; like a barrage of screaming missiles, is the flames flickering behind her eyes as she glares at Bora with enough heat that if it was possible she probably could incinerate her unruly officer right then and right there.

After finally witnessing what her commissioner looks like angry, Yoohyeon finds herself even more petrified. She’s unable to even so much as blink as she helplessly watches her fellow officer get pulled into Joohyun’s office.

What really surprises her though, is how Bora doesn't look scared at all; she honestly looks amused, as if this was just another normal day at the office. 

Yoohyeon doesn't know what to think of her, she isn’t too sure really.

All she knows is that Bora seems different from everybody else. She doesn’t follow dress code, flinch under Joohyun’s terrifying stare, and she’s the first person that has smiled back at Yoohyeon, despite being a stranger.

Though it may be buried deep within her heart, and she’s so accustomed to feeling like she does; just simply living and breathing; existing another day, that she doesn’t feel the impact too much--but Yoohyeon’s heart begins to feel ever-so-slightly hopeful again.

***

Most people would say Joohyun and Bora have complicated relationship, sort of like a love and hate one at that; but Bora wouldn’t agree with that classification.

To her, she and Joohyun don't know each other well enough to love each other, having only worked a few months with each other after Joohyun’s transfer here at the Busan station, Bora knows that’s not nearly enough time for love or admiration to settle into their hearts; and as far as hating one another goes that’s a bit too much. Bora doesn’t hate anyone without reason and the reason has to be a good one for her to get behind feeling such a negative emotion. Joohyun, while fully capable of steaming off negative emotions such as anger and every adjective used to describe said emotion; she is still similar to Bora when feeling such a strong emotion as hatred. She doesn’t hate without reason, and even then her unwavering professionalism keeps that nasty feeling in check.

If Bora was asked to describe what she thought their relationship was, she'd liken them to a shepherd and her sheep.

Joohyun being the shepherd and Bora being one her sheep.

Joohyun had a role to fulfill as a leader and undoubtedly a protector to her flock. She was in charge of making sure everyone got to point A and point B on a daily basis, she saw everyone day in and day out, making sure everyone was accounted for and taken care of; it was her job as a leader to do just that.

But being a protector of her flock was always something that was instilled into her, but the thing is, for her to willingly throw her way of life, and inevitably herself into harm’s way to protect others, people that might not even do the same for her, is something that comes with time; a matter of her heart that most never get the chance to see.

There’s selfishness in making money and doing a job for the leadership and the power that ultimately comes with it, but there is kindness and vulnerability and undeniably selflessness in protecting others at the cost of oneself.

To Bora that’s where the lines get blurry between them, maybe their relationship isn’t all black and white, nor is it really grey either, maybe they do hold love within their hearts for one another; Bora really isn’t for sure. But she does know there’s a certain level of respect between them that does cross over into that unknown territory.

After months of violating dress code, and disturbing the officers inside from doing their work because Bora’s 1978 Dodge Aspen, despite having a muffler attached, still roars with an unsealable fury each time she whips into the station’s parking lot. Joohyun still has yet to write her up for any of it. She just nags at her to follow protocol and to stop using her own personal vehicle to make her rounds when all officers are supposed to use the assigned patrol cars. 

Of course Bora never listens, but Joohyun still does her best to reprimand her.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to Bora when Joohyun pulled her into her office to release yet another long-winded lecture about Bora’s unwillingness to be the same as everyone else is here. However, Joohyun didn’t say it that way because it goes without saying.

Bora has always just been Bora, despite living her whole life in a country that is big on abiding by the rules and following order in a socially conducted way. She was born with a heart that forever will be different, and she carries this undying drive that refuses to allow anyone to restrain her from being who she is just so they can attempt to have her try and reach their unreachable standards.

A lot of people just call her brash, careless even; Bora would say she was made from a different mold, and that she does care. She just doesn’t care about pleasing others in order to fit in.

Despite Joohyun being the prime example of what a South Korean citizen should be, she herself even understands that changing someone’s heart is level with committing a heinous crime.

No one should have to change who they are in order to get respect and admiration in the lowest form.

However, Joohyun still wishes Bora would listen from time to time, it be a lot easier on her for Bora to follow the rules, thus keeping the city officials happy; whereabouts as for Bora not to follow the rules and keep the city officials raining down on Joohyun’s head like a wicked case of April showers.

Nonetheless, Joohyun still carries the heavy umbrella to keep herself and Bora out of the rain for another day.

After fifteen minutes of nearly biting Bora’s head off, Joohyun finishes her lecture with a look that can only be read as: _What am I going to do with you?_

It reminds Bora of how her mother used to look at her as a young girl, when she used to take her BB gun, that her mother got her for Christmas one year, and shoot her mother’s fine china out in the backyard for target practice.

Sure there's a lengthy amount of anger riddling Joohyun’s features but there’s also a look of softness, Bora would even go as far as to say fondness, in Joohyun’s dark eyes.

Like a mother to her child, Joohyun has no say in the matter of her heart when it comes down to how she feels for Bora, whether that’s love or her instinct to protect one of her own Joohyun will never say.

But the love, respect, or whatever it is she holds for Bora shows when she chooses not to write her up yet again.

Before Joohyun dismisses Bora, she informs her that she will be working alongside a fellow officer from now on.

To which Bora had been gobsmacked.

She hasn’t worked alongside somebody since her days at KNPU. Most of her previous freshman officers wrote her off the moment they learned she wasn’t like them, not orderly not abiding; for Bora was a different painted fence post alongside those who were painted white, like how picket fences should be.

She’s so used to working alone that when Joohyun had initially told her that she’d have a partner, it left her unable to speak, this surreal feeling overwhelming her as Joohyun listed off her new partner’s credentials.

“She’s originally from America, having moved here when she was eighteen. She graduated at the very top of her class at KNPU. She’s fluent in both Korean and English, has a bachelor degree in criminology and a minor in anthropology; that she acquired from Boca university. She seems to have everything that we need here at Busan, a loyal soul and a hard working mentality. I have no doubt that she’ll be successful here, and with your drive and determination I’m sure you two will fit together perfectly…..A force to be reckoned with even.”

Bora knows every face here at the station...all but one.

She thinks about the woman who had smiled at her. She hopes that woman is the one.

She swallows, her mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, which seeps down into her chest, causing her heart to inch with the biggest question, it clatters from behind her teeth, and for the first time since Joohyun has known her, when Bora asks, “What’s her name?” her voice comes out barely louder than a whisper.

There’s a pause, and somehow there’s nothing but everything from within it.

“Kim Yoohyeon.” 

***

Yoohyeon is still sitting at her desk by the time a feminine voice calls to her, “Kim Yoohyeon?” the woman asks, her loud tone somehow up to par with Gahyeon's own.

Yoohyeon winces before quickly looking up. She sees Bora hovering over the edge of her desk now, her features somewhat unreadable if not just somewhat shy.

“Yes?” Yoohyeon replies, unsure.

“I’m Kim Bora, your new partner.”

Yoohyeon’s heart leaps again, and it won’t be the last time it does that; it’s actually the second time of many that will follow after.

But for now Yoohyeon follows with the basics, the: _Nice to meet you_ , and so forth.

Bora returns the pleasantries following with the question, “What year were you born?”

“97.”

“So you’re younger than me. I was born in 94.” Bora pauses, then adds after a beat, “Don’t worry about using honorifics. Let’s just stick with me being just Bora and you being just Yoohyeon, okay?”

Yoohyeon nods her head, feeling more lost than before; as if this was some weird fever dream she was bound to wake up from anytime now.

But the second her stomach aches dully, a pain from not eating well the last few days, followed with a low growl from her belly; she knows she isn’t dreaming.

But Bora still doesn’t make matters feel any less surreal. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat, we can patrol after.” She just up and informs before adding “Do you like Souffle pancakes? There’s a diner right down the road. Their strawberry sauce is so good.”

Yoohyeon’s mouth opens then closes a few times before she finally finds her voice again, “Okay.” Her tone is weak, but her heart which is hammering away against her rib cage is strong.

Bora starts to walk forward, she’s nearly halfway across the office by the time she realizes Yoohyeon is still sitting in her chair. She stops moving forward, looking over her shoulder to her new partner, her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you coming?”

Yoohyeon blinks a few times before nodding her head. She gets up, ready to follow behind Bora; this would be the first occasion of her gladly following behind her partner.

But the thing is, Bora doesn’t actually let her trail behind, she waits until Yoohyeon is shoulder to shoulder with her; and as Yoohyeon walks beside her in silence she glances over to Bora and sees a woman who could easily lead, but chooses to walk side by side with her, not in a single file line, with Yoohyeon trailing far behind.

Yoohyeon's heart slowly starts to feel hopeful again, sort of like healing; she doesn’t notice it right away, but the wounds slashed across her heart ever-so-slightly start to fade away.

.

Within just one day, Yoohyeon learns a lot about Bora.

Bora drives a 1978 Dodge Aspen, whose frame is painted the Royalest of golds, it shines like an ancient treasure in a land where everything else looks so dull. It had shocked Yoohyeon to learn this as much as it did thrill her. When she had sat down in the passenger’s cool black leather seat, she had thought of how her dad would be so jealous once she told him how her ride around town is the coolest classic car she’s ever seen, let alone been in.

She learns that Bora is very easy on the eyes, especially when she sings along with the radio, with her driver’s side window down, the freezing wind breezing through her hair as she sings without a care in the world.

She learns that Bora has a chivalrous manner to her too, for she had held the door to the diner open for Yoohyeon to enter. She’s also very polite to the working class, making sure to be just as attentive to the waitress as the waitress is to them.

Bora waits patiently for Yoohyeon to order, but she does insist on her trying the Souffle pancakes with strawberry sauce on top.

To which Yoohyeon orders.

While waiting for their food to get done, they had talked about everything and anything, much to Yoohyeon’s ever growing surprise.

They talked about the cold weather, how Busan looks so nice in winter. They talked about their time spent within the police force, and how Joohyun is a nice change of authority from all in which they have served under before, despite her being the scariest--at least to Yoohyeon.

By the time their food arrives though, Bora finally brings up the elephant in the room, the one Yoohyeon has never forgotten, but has so desperately tried to hide in order to just survive.

“So you’re from America, huh?”

Yoohyeon nearly chokes on a bit of her pancake, she strains her throat to painfully swallow the piece of food down before drinking nearly half a cup of water.

Bora watches her curiously the whole time, but she doesn’t say anything; instead she waits until Yoohyeon is ready to speak.

Yoohyeon, however, was never ready to bring up the discussion of her true nationality, not when that’s the one thing that sets her apart from everyone else, and burns bridges before they can even be walked across.

Her teeth inch, and her hand that remains clenched around the cup of water shakes ever-so-slightly, causing the liquid inside to ripple.

Over a million words clatter from behind Yoohyeon’s teeth, a million different answers, a million different defenses, in order to protect her heart that feels so close to shattering, as if it’s not able to handle another rejection of her character.

However, through a million different responses, Yoohyeon is only able to breathe out a barely audible, “Yeah.”

And through a million different reactions that Yoohyeon was expecting, and has seen before, never did she expect Bora to smile warmly and reply, “That’s awesome. Do you miss it?”

Yoohyeon could cry, this feeling of dying overwhelms her, but it also feels akin to rebirth; like she’s rising from mud one last final time and somebody- _No_ , Bora sees her for all she’s worth, and ever has been.

A woman worth more than all her weight in priceless gold, and more than what others could ever hope to be.

Bora values her already, but neither of them know that yet; nor does Yoohyeon know that Bora accepts her for who she truly is, and not all that she’ll never be. 

Yoohyeon laughs, it sounds sad, but even more so relieved. “Yeah, I do.”

Yoohyeon’s heart beats hopeful for another round, and this time Yoohyeon feels it.

.

The rest of their time spent at the diner Yoohyeon learns a lot about Bora, and Bora learns a lot about Yoohyeon by asking her questions that nobody thinks to even ask.

Bora learns that Yoohyeon’s hobbies are watching videos on Youtube and playing video games with her younger cousin online when she can. Yoohyeon learns that Bora’s hobbies are watching Tv dramas and practicing her shooting at the station’s underground gun range.

Bora learns that Yoohyeon's favorite color is shades of greens. Yoohyeon learns that Bora’s favorite color is red.

Bora learns that Yoohyeon’s favorite food is ramen and her favorite Korean dish is kimchi. Yoohyeon learns that Bora’s favorite food is anything with meat in it, but she also really likes rice rolls.

It’s the little things at first that they learn about each other, it isn’t till later after spending at least a solid month or two, side by side; as if they were each other's shadows, does Bora learn Yoohyeon came to South Korea because something within her beckoned her to ever since the age of five. Bora didn’t laugh, call her crazy, or brush her off. She found Yoohyeon’s story to be one that hits too close to home. She also learned that Yoohyeon has a similar passion drive to her, it’s comforting as it is fulfilling.

Because somebody- _No_ , Yoohyeon understands what it’s like to have a heart that goes and goes, runs on a fuel that siphones from their heavy souls and doesn’t run out until it’s forced to. 

For they once were two young girls who almost ran down on empty, but somehow they managed to keep going, despite everything that’s tried to stop them, wear them down even; because in life there’s no room for girls like them; girls who follow their burning hearts and live life with uncertainty, that is certain that somehow everything will work out.

Bora has never believed in fate, she’s never really had the time to stop and think that maybe in the grand scheme of things someone is tugging at the strings, leading people to bigger better things, sometimes even worse.

But every time she looks at Yoohyeon, sees the girl’s dopey but endearing smile; she can’t help but to think that maybe fate did have a hand in this.

Maybe fate did in fact bring Yoohyeon to her in a time where she most needed her.

(Oh, and if Bora only knew that Yoohyeon thought the same. That to Yoohyeon, Bora was the light that she’s been trying to reach at the end of this very dark tunnel that she’s crawled and fought her way through for years.)

***

Months pass, and Yoohyeon's heart beats hopeful again.

With being around Bora the cherry blossom trees seem larger than life again, the still waters of rivers while still cold, shine warmly now. Bora gladly listens to all of Yoohyeon’s knowledge about ancient shrines and the history she’s learned from.

They take pictures together of every place they go to, smiling always; because happiness is well alive within their healed hearts. Yoohyeon looks at the pictures from her camera roll every chance she gets, and she makes sure to the burn the images into her mind, and engrave them within her heart, blanketing them in love and warmth; for they are her most prized possessions, second to the cross necklace that she still wears around her neck.

When she calls her family, who still answers on the first ring, she now tells them of everything and anything; most of her stories are related to Bora, thus causing her parents to tease her over it.

She always laughs and tells them, “She’s my friend!” She never adds the "best" in front because it feels too soon, but she knows within her heart that it would ring true if she did.

When she Skypes Gahyeon, who still answers on the second ring. She tells her and Dami, who is always around Gahyeon without fail, how much she’s enjoying life in South Korea and everything in between.

When their Skype call starts to come to a close, Gahyeon doesn’t look at her with that same expression from before. Instead she gives her a look that says without words: _I’m so happy for you, ya know? And I’m glad there's someone who makes South Korea finally feel like home._

To which Yoohyeon smiles genuinely, her heart overfilled with happiness. She tells Gahyeon she loves her, to which her younger cousin returns before they say goodbye without actually saying goodbye.

However, after that moment, Yoohyeon’s heart feels completely and utterly homesick. Although maybe she always has been, maybe she was just too busy to feel that way before.

She misses her family.

Bora would learn that too soon.

But for now as more weeks pass by, countless days spent with Yoohyeon swearing she’s going to lose her hearing because Bora’s volume, especially her laugh, is deafening. But she’d never want it any other way; even at the times when their commissioner had stormed out of her office to tell them to “Shut up!” because they’re laughing way too loud.

Days spent with Bora, shooting at the underground gun range, with Yoohyeon quickly learning Bora is a dead shot with any type of gun she chooses to use, and Bora’s determination to bring Yoohyeon up to her level of expertise; always lending a helping hand every time Yoohyeon’s gun recoils back, causing her aim to be way off. Bora had always put her own gun down and instructed Yoohyeon with the knowledge and patience of a wise teacher, and her hands gentle like a mother’s would be as she’d fix Yoohyeon’s hands placement on the gun.

Eventually Yoohyeon’s heart would settle, along with her aim; and she’d shoot bullseye every single time. Bora would cheer in victory afterwards before wrapping her strong arms around Yoohyeon's tiny waist, holstering her up in the air as she twirls them around, causing Yoohyeon to squeal like a happy little girl.

Days spent with Bora, singing loudly and off pitch in her car to the songs that play on the radio as they did their routine patrols for the day.

Days spent with Bora, where Bora would have to suppress her endless snickers because Joohyun had rested her hand on the small of Yoohyeon’s back when reaching over to grab a cup of coffee one morning.

The look on Yoohyeon’s face was priceless. She looked like her soul had left her body, spilling her own cup of coffee on the countertop because of her internal gay panic, which only prompted Joohyun to shift closer to her and ask if she was alright.

To which Yoohyeon had wheezed out, “I’m fine!” like a deflated balloon. Bora nearly had lost it right then and there, but she managed to keep her laughter contained until Joohyun was out of the room.

“You got it _so bad_ for her.” Bora had laughed while curled over in her seat as joyous tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes.

Yoohyeon hadn’t even tried to deny it. Instead she left the room with a huff, but not before sending a glare Bora’s way.

Which had only made her cackle harder.

.

More time passes by, and it’s nearly the end of summer, when Bora notices that Yoohyeon Isn't acting like herself. Well, she is, but she isn’t. Her smiles don’t really reach her eyes, and when she laughs her eyes don’t close in happy crescent moons, that Bora adores to see.

If Bora didn’t spend the last few months practically attached to Yoohyeon’s side she might have not noticed just how different the girl was. Everyone else, even the keen eyes of Joohyun didn’t see anything up with Yoohyeon, but Bora did, she’s spent so much time noticing Yoohyeon already.

Despite Bora wanting to nip this gloomy behavior from her partner, she opted to stay quiet, figuring Yoohyeon will talk about whatever is bothering her when she’s ready to. Until then Bora keeps an extra watchful eye on her, and watches how each day something seems to be digging, and digging away at her friend.

It drives Bora crazy as much as it breaks her heart. Because Yoohyeon, who has the brightest, prettiest, disposition to her, should never have to feel like she does.

It is life’s cruel joke told to them both.

Bora has never found it funny.

.

Within that same week, Bora and Yoohyeon stop at the diner right down the road from the station to have a serving of Souffle pancakes with that insanely good strawberry sauce. It’s a daily ritual between them now, neither of them will ever grow tired of it; nor will Bora allow Yoohyeon to pay, despite her partner’s best efforts to.

Bora had covered Yoohyeon all the times before, and she always will in future.

They share their meal in silence for the most part. Bora had tried to make small talk just so she could hear Yoohyeon’s sweet voice. She tried to make Yoohyeon laugh even more just so she could see her favorite person smile again.

Yoohyeon had talked back, replying every time Bora spoke; but her replies were half-hearted and sounded sad to Bora’s ears. She had also smiled at Bora’s jokes and funny antics that Bora had pulled at the cost of her own dignity; it’s sort of frowned upon to stick 100 won coin up one’s nose in South Korea, especially when seated among people who are trying to eat their breakfast in peace; but Bora didn’t care, not when all she wanted was to see her friend happy again.

.

By the time they exit the diner and head to Bora’s car; Yoohyeon had made a comment along the way about the Lotus festival coming up at the end of the week. It was probably on her mind after hearing several diner patrons talk about it, at least that’s what Bora had guessed.

“I’ve always wanted to go...I’ve never had the time to though. But I used to watch the lanterns float away through my apartment's living room window, back when I was in college….They always looked so pretty.” Yoohyeon had told her.

The thing is, if Bora’s being honest, she’s gone to the Lotus festival once before. It was years ago before she left for her Police training. She had gone with her mother; ate some cotton candy, watched her mother send off a lantern, and left before the grand finale. It was okay, but Bora wouldn’t exactly write home about it, nor would she care if she never went again.

She’s just not really the type to want to go out and celebrate occasions that hold sentimental values, that people only seem to value for a day before dropping them.

It’s one one those hypocritical things that she can’t stand with people. Yeah, maybe she’s being a bit harsh, judgemental herself even; but it kills her inside to know that people will abide by a saying of a flower but treat their fellow men and women like lesser beings.

But the moment she looks at Yoohyeon, sees the undeniable sadness hidden between the amber flakes of Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes, she is willing to do whatever it takes to get them to that damn festival.

***

Bora solely underestimated just how hard it would be to get them to that festival; solely underestimated just how much of an ass Joohyun can be sometimes.

“Come on, Joohyun. Let us off of patrol that night. You never allow me anything!” Bora whines, throwing her hands up like some tiny child throwing an absolute fit.

Joohyun glares at her, unbelievable. “I never allow you anything?” She scoffs, “No, I just let you violate dress code everyday. I just let you drive that loud-trap you have outside around. I let you come into my office and yell at me like I’m not your elder or anything of the sort!” She barks, fuming in frustration. 

Bora rolls her eyes. Joohyun contemplates murdering her, right then and right there.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah and I appreciate that about you. But seriously I really need you to let us off that night.”

Joohyun blinks, she’s visibly shaking in her chair.

“If not for me, do it for Yoohyeon!” Bora pleads, using Yoohyeon as one last pitch effort to get Joohyun to cave in; only because she knows Joohyun secretly has an unfathomable soft spot for the girl.

Joohyun almost gives in, until she realizes just how unprofessional that would be, and nonetheless, extremely telling.

“I said no. Now get out of my office.”

Bora doesn’t even attempt to leave. Instead she folds her arms against her chest and looks at Joohyun expectantly.

Joohyun blinks once more before her features contorts into that look of comedical rage, that quite frankly isn’t funny to anyone except for Bora.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Office. Bora.” She orders through gritted teeth while slightly rising from her seat, pointing to the door without breaking her dissonant glare.

After a beat Bora huffs while turning on her heel, storming out of Joohyun’s office, but not before sending her commissioner a pointed look.

Joohyun sinks into her chair the moment the door to her office slams shut. Her temples dully ache, she brings her hands up to rub at her temples, trying to soothe her oncoming headache, that’s no doubt going to be a severe one. 

She really could go for a stress nap right about now. 

***

It’s the night of the Lotus festival, and Bora and Yoohyeon are sitting inside of Bora’s car that is parked in the parking lot of some grocery store. They watch for any speeders or drunken passersby.

The neon lights from the marketplace flicker occasionally, illuminating the inside of Bora’s car from time to time.

Yoohyeon rasps her knuckles on the passenger’s side window, humming absentmindedly as she stares up at the night’s sky. It’s a cloudless night, and the darkness that paints the sky enhances the numerous stars that shine brightly like beautiful sets of diamonds scattered across, as if they had just been spilled across the awe-inspiring sky. 

It’s the perfect night to set off a seemingly endless amount of colorful lanterns, this Yoohyeon knows. 

It’s too bad they can’t go see them up close in person.

She tries to not let it bother her, but it does; along with this feeling of longing for her family that seems like it’s unsustainable to stop feeling.

She’s felt like this for weeks now, ever since her Skype call with Gahyeon; and it’s slowly been eating away at her heart that was hopeful once more.

She’s always carried this hope that she’ll see her family again, but that hope never tells her when that time will be, and that’s what hurts her.

To think she knows, but she does not.

Bora on the other hand knows too much, without really truly knowing what the problem is.

Whether Yoohyeon's problem is minuscule or larger than life, that doesn’t matter. All that matter is whatever it is that’s bothering her is enough for Bora to make it her problem too. Because _-God forbid-_ she’ll never let Yoohyeon suffer alone again; not after learning all she has about her.

A young girl who had left her whole life behind to start a new one, on a dream that was unattainable to all but her.

A young girl who had no friends here, and gained none because people didn’t view her as someone worth having around.

A young girl who worked herself to the point of utter exhaustion to stay ahead in a country whose competition is brutal as it is unforgiving.

A young girl who succeeded at the cost of everything she ever had. The cost of herself, and her heart; that while is now healed, will never be the same as it was before.

A young woman’s body that is worn down, and scarred from all the times she’s fallen, without ever being offered a helping hand.

Yoohyeon had endured senseless prejudice from her own people. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t born here in South Korea, she’s still a human, and no different than them.

Yoohyeon had been burdened with rejection after rejection, despite being the kind of person that everyone needs in their life, a hardworking woman with a heart of gold.

And despite everything that’s tried to take her down, in the end Yoohyeon still remains smiling; still remains hopeful that the world has good in it, despite it hardly showing that to her, as if she’s the only sole giver of all things that are good.

Yoohyeon is everything Bora admires.

For she’s a woman who lives by sentimental values, and grander life meanings; and never, _never_ does she drop them after a day.

Yoohyeon is sincerity in a world that turns on it’s jaded axial and strives on hypocrisy.

Yoohyeon is deserving of a world that doesn’t deserve her.

So when Bora kicks on the siren on her dashboard, flashes her car headlights wildly, and quite literally guns it out of the parking lot, it’s because she’s trying to give Yoohyeon a better world in the only way she knows how.

.

Yoohyeon nearly had a panic attack over Bora’s wicked speeding, and being informed just what Bora was doing.

Which was defiling Joohyun’s orders and sneaking away from the patrol to drive halfway across the country to Incheon’s central park to attend the Lotus festival.

Yoohyeon quite literally squealed out how Bora was nuts and that their commissioner was going to have their asses framed on her office wall.

To which Bora had just laughed, and Yoohyeon didn’t know if it was just her own anxiety pumping in her heart that cause it to leap and soar out of her chest at the sight of Bora laughing, or if it was the slightest feeling of love blooming from within her heart.

For Bora had been the only person that would defile the odds in order to see her happy again.

***

Somehow Bora managed to get them to Incheon central park without killing them or anyone else, and she even managed to get them there on time too.

Now the two women walk side by side, passing a large weeping willow tree along the way before Bora has to stop and get some cotton candy after noticing one of the kiosk stalls serving it.

She had offered to purchase Yoohyeon some too, to which the girl had scrunched her nose up to, disgusted by it. Yoohyeon hasn’t eaten cotton candy since she puked her guts out at the carnival back home; a bad memory that taints the snack from her consumption.

Once Bora gets her snack, she and Yoohyeon stop just behind the relatively large crowd of people, who hold various lanterns in their hands, smiling because in this moment all is right from within this wrong world.

Yoohyeon looks over to Bora, meeting her friend’s kind eyes. In that moment Yoohyeon forgets about the homesickness she’s feeling, and Bora doesn’t remember why she hates festivals like this.

Because right now Yoohyeon feels at home, and Bora chooses to engrave this festival into her heart, and love it for all it’s worth--to love Yoohyeon for all she is and ever will be.

They’re so caught up in each other they don’t hear the crowd counting down, nor hear children’s joyous squeals, and the elderly's peaceful laughter.

Their hearts are beating way too loud, and Yoohyeon is crying now without realizing it; and Bora realizes how completely and utterly beautiful her friend is, in a powerful manner that it makes Bora’s brash heart tick, and die, and live, and love.

It’s only at the countdown of five does Yoohyeon realize that she loves Bora, and that Bora loves her.

It’s only a second later that she realizes that Bora’s hair is caught in a web of pink cotton candy.

“Your hair!” Yoohyeon squeals, happy tears still spilling from her eyes, coating the sides of her cheeks that are round from the radiant smile she’s wearing.

“ _Yah!”_ Bora fumbles to free her precious hair, Yoohyeon attempts to help but she’s laughing way too hard.

Bora finally untangles her hair from the sugary treat the moment that the crowd releases the barrage of lanterns.

Yoohyeon and Bora freeze in place, the air stolen from within their lungs as they watch in awe how the lanterns paint the sky in freckles of every color imaginable.

The park erupts in booming squeals of happiness, and loud applause that reminds Yoohyeon of her family. 

People huddled close to their loved ones, and hesitantly Bora huddles closer to Yoohyeon before wrapping her loving arm around her friend’s tiny waist. Yoohyeon settles into her embrace like it’s similar familiar--like it’s something that’s meant to be.

They share this perfect moment together for a good bit. Until Yoohyeon breaks this loving spell cast on them with laughter that pierces Bora’s eardrums. She winces as she shuffles away from her friend, who points at her and laughs.

“I can’t believe you got cotton candy stuck in your hair, Pabo!”

Bora feels slightly embarrassed, her cheeks dusting with a light shade of pink as she sputters for a response, prompting Yoohyeon to laugh even harder.

Bora blinks before smirking mischievously. She lunges forward attacking at Yoohyeon’s sides, tickling her until Yoohyeon breaks away with a girlish squeal trailing out from her lips as she runs away, Bora hot on her trail.

Yoohyeon looks over her shoulder and screams delightfully everytime that she sees Bora is close. Everyone in the park watches them, some think they’re crazy, others think they’re two girls in love.

But Yoohyeon and Bora are neither.

To them they’re just Yoohyeon and Bora. Two women who defiled the odds, and whose hearts beat hopefully again; full of love and respect for each other--in a world that tried to rob them of all of that.

Fate may have brought them together, but hope is how they found one another.

And somewhere far distance, someone watches through their bedroom window as the lanterns fill up the night’s sky. Their heart carries no love, no respect, no hope for the world that has suffered them--for fate has brought them nothing of good.

They don’t know that eventually fate will bring them something good. It will bring everything that their heart carries not; and it will fill their heart up until it explodes, ripping their hollow heart open, and surrenders to them not.

They’ll feel again soon, they’ll suffer even more; but for now they must wait.

Until the day hope brings them Yoohyeon, and along will Bora follow her. 

***

After the Lotus festival ended, that's when Bora and Yoohyeon should be heading back to Busan, but they don’t.

Instead Bora takes a detour, prompting Yoohyeon to give her a certain look, but once again Bora just laughs.

.

They arrive at the Han river shortly after, and Yoohyeon is rendered speechless, not really knowing what to say. But Bora fills in the gap of silence and ushers for Yoohyeon to follow her, and Yoohyeon does.

Because once again she’d gladly follow Bora anywhere.

Bora leads her to a hidden trail, one that Yoohyeon has never seen before, despite having visited the Han river many times since she's lived in South Korea.

Yoohyeon nearly stumbles to the ground, but Bora catches her, mumbling how clumsy Yoohyeon is before continuing their little journey.

Bora ducks underneath a lowly hanging tree branch, to which Yoohyeon copies before they reach a spacious spot that holds the perfect view.

The river glistens from the light shining off of Seoul’s massive buildings in the distance. The full moon perched in the night’s sky somehow takes up the majority of the space on body of water.

There's this feeling of fantasy and wonder kept here, reminding Yoohyeon of her mother’s stories.

With heavy feet, and a hopeful heart, Yoohyeon moves forward only stopping to sit down beside Bora at the river’s edge.

“Wow.” Yoohyeon breathes, looking around in wonder as she takes in all the beauty that’s stored here.

Bora hums in agreement, looking straight ahead. Yoohyeon notices how her partner seems like she too is somewhere far away.

Yoohyeon scoots closer, concerned.

Bora doesn’t look her way, scared that Yoohyeon might see the heart-breaking sorrow she’s kept hidden within her eyes for a very long time.

“I used to come here everyday when I was in KNPU. Something about being here calms me.” Bora starts off, stopping to painfully swallow the hard lump in her throat. “I know you’re going through something right now, and that you’ll tell me when you're ready. But I want you to know I understand what it's like to feel like you’re never enough.”

Bora does understand, perhaps too much even. These scars slashed across her heart is evidence to that, and while she’s healed she still feels this sharp pain in her chest every time she’s reminded that the only person she never asked to love her, is the person who she, at one point in time, wanted too.

Yoohyeon’s breath hitches and her heart sinks to the lowest pit in her stomach.

Bora shakes her head in an attempt to chase away the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “My father left when I was born. It’s only been me and my mother.” She confesses--it still hurts to admit.

It’s been twenty-five years and it still hurts.

A few hot tears managed to slip past her eyes, coating her sunken cheeks as she sucks on her tongue to not cry. “For the longest time I wanted to know what was wrong with me. I thought there was really something fucked up about me. Because in my mind that was the only reason why my father would want to leave.”

For the first time in twenty-two years Yoohyeon’s heart finally breaks--but it breaks for Bora.

If Yoohyeon wasn’t so heartbroken she’d realize that Bora trusts her enough to tell her deepest darkest secrets to her; secrets that she’s never told anyone else, but Yoohyeon doesn’t know that.

One day she will, but not now.

“After he left my mother fell apart. I knew the moment that I came out of the womb that she wasn’t the same woman who had carried me for nine months.” Bora tells before wiping away her tears with the palms of her shaky hands.

“Growing up I felt this overwhelming need to protect my mother, to shield her from any more pain. At first I just stuck to her side like any little kid would do with their mother, swatting away anyone who’d come near her. But as I grew up my need to protect my mother grew into something more. I think that’s why I studied to become a police officer. Because then not only could I protect my mother, but I could prove my worth in something that’s for the greater good…...something that’s not fucked up.”

It’s the biggest burden Bora’s ever carried, to want to be good; but told that she is nothing but bad.

Yoohyeon shifts closer before placing a comforting hand on Bora’s shoulder, prompting Bora to meet Yoohyeon’s eyes that are filled with the utmost acceptance.

It makes Bora feel like she’s drowning, suffocating in waters she’s never been in before.

It makes her feel weak. How is she even supposed to protect anyone when she can’t even protect her own heart?

She’s drowning.

_Drowning. Drowning. Drowning._

But Yoohyeon….Yoohyeon is the only one who knows how to pull her out of this strong tide, and protect her when her heart feels too weak.

“I don’t think you’re messed up, Bora.” Yoohyeon promises, because it is a promise; a certainty that Bora is far from being messed up, and though she’s far from perfect….she’s everything in Yoohyeon’s eyes.

Bora feels her burden lessen, and while it’s not gone completely, nor will it ever be; she feels Yoohyeon carry some of the weight for her.

She always will too.

Yoohyeon would never abandon her, Bora doesn’t know that; but eventually she will.

But for right now, Bora carries a new weight from hope that Yoohyeon will always be by her side.

“And I don’t think you’re just some foreigner, Yoohyeon.” Bora promises, because it is a promise; her own certainty that Yoohyeon is far more than what society labels her to be.

In Bora’s eyes Yoohyeon is so much more than the span of infinite….she is everything.

She is hers, and Bora, without a shadow of a doubt, is Yoohyeon’s.

They both just don’t know that yet.

Too early to understand, but not too soon to feel.

Yoohyeon feels whole again--Yoohyeon feels like Yoohyeon again.

Because with Bora, she’s the only one who could make her feel alive again, feel hope again.

Bora is living proof that good is still very much within the world, and that two people with a series of differences; aren’t really so different from one another.

There’s a long pause, the crickets and grasshoppers in the background chirp, singing this soft melody only for Bora and Yoohyeon to hear. 

“Did you know that the meaning behind the lotus flower is that even out the murky mud of life grows the purely beautiful lotus flower, trusting in it’s own unfolding.” Yoohyeon informs her, smiling; and she continues too even after Bora playfully rolls her eyes.

“I think it’s fitting for us.” Yoohyeon confesses shyly, but certain.

Bora looks at her, thinks about the meaning; remembers all in which they’ve endured. “Yeah...me too.”

Suddenly fireworks shoot off in the distance, causing both the woman to flinch. They look around in disbelief before the rainbow of colors captivated their attention; painting them in colors full of beauty, full of life, full of hope.

When they finally look at each other after the fireworks settle down some, not exploding into the sky; echoing like the loudest of drums, echoing just like their powerful hearts. Yoohyeon wraps Bora into a hug before whispering _“Thank you.”_ into her ear.

Bora is frozen, her hands hanging in the air, she’s not quite sure where to put them, nor does she understand why her heart beats the way it does, and screams in blinding colors when Yoohyeon rests her face in the crook of her neck.

Bora feels the corner of her eyes sting once more, only then does she wrap her arms around Yoohyeon, pulling her closer as another round of fireworks explode into the night’s sky.

She doesn’t say, _“No, thank you.”_ out loud but she knows Yoohyeon hears her speak it by how her heart beats frantically against Yoohyeon's own wild-childish-heart.

Their hearts are loud and unyielding, feeling and sharing respect in its highest form.

Through love and acceptance of one another, all that they’ll ever be; and all that they ever were.

***

Yoohyeon confesses later that night to Bora how what’s been bothering her is that she misses her family. She doesn’t admit that now, however, she finds that in Bora.

Bora had comforted her. She hadn't confess that she thinks of Yoohyeon as her best friend, her family too, only because she didn't know it yet; neither did Yoohyeon.

Eventually they will, sooner rather than later, but for now they’re just Yoohyeon and Bora.

Two women who found one another when they needed each other the most. 

Two best friends who’d remain together, until they no longer could.

.

They learn later that night that Joohyun had been looking for them all night. She actually had planned to let them go from work early so that they could attend the festival. But after learning that they had deliberately disobeyed her orders and had snuck out on their own accord; she makes Bora and Yoohyeon run a mile through mud the next day as punishment.

Yoohyeon had stumbled, fell down on her unsteady knees; like she was always destined to do.

But this time someone was there to lend a helping hand--Bora was there to pull Yoohyeon up from the mud, and dust her dirty knees off before they continued to run alongside one another.

Because that’s what fate had planned all along.

Ever since the age of five Yoohyeon was destined to listen to stories.

But now at the age of twenty-two Yoohyeon is destined to make her own.

With Bora at her side every step of the way.

***

It’s January, and her heart is still frozen.

Although it’s nothing new, everything about her has always been preserved into this iced beauty, along with the aged shot of Japanese whiskey that she holds in her hands, held with so much grace it seems impious.

However, it’s fitting. Because everything about her has felt blasphemous.

Her slender pointer finger skims the rim of the glass, her black nail polish perfected and shiner than the copper liquid inside the glass. The alcohol lightly ripples over her movements, swirling in a way that seems endless.

Fitting--everything is so fitting.

She observes her land through the massive window in her bedroom. The snow descends effortlessly down onto her massive vineyard, whose crops have long withered up due to the cold winter.

A beautiful, but damning dormancy well alive within the fields of brittle vines, and hollow trees in the far background.

But in the next few months all will return to normal, and all the lifeless scenery around her will bloom with life once again.

For she’s watched the seasons change over many years, and they too have watched her remain exactly the same. 

She brings the glass to her lips, takes a sip of the burning poison, like how a lady should before her teeth latched onto the brim of her glass, she laughs quietly into it, a smile curling at her delicate lips.

She feels more emptier than before.

But there is a certain bile bitterness that remains in her, like a bad aftertaste--one that’s lasted f _or so long._

The feeling is far too powerful, yelling, crying, ripping what’s left of her apart in all it’s uncontrollable fury as it screams: _I have suffered you! I have suffered you! I have suffered you…_

For she was met with a terrible fate many, many years ago.

Now all those who cross her--she’ll make sure their sufferings are far worse than her own.

And _-God-_ she has too.

It’s deserving, a feeling she relishes every time she gets to call the final judgement, like a corrupt angel damning those who have the misfortune of crossing her, within her path or not; a boundless energy of hatred radiates off her, glows, like how a pearlescent shine from a tarnished halo would.

She gets her salvation through painting the world in strokes of reds, like how the sun sweeps across the blue sky to coat the deepest shades of blues into dark violets before changing red; it’s always been a gradual occurrence, as it has always been inevitable. 

For these people should have never bitten the hand of those who fed them.

Now the tables have turned, and she feasts on them, soaking in all they ever were, and ever had been; their spilled blood had poured over her head in a anointment that once caused her eyes to roll in the back of her head, a unsettling feeling of pleasure being derived from all those she’s harmed. 

_Deserving. Deserving. Deserving._

Her teeth let go of the brim of the glass the moment she hears the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor, captivating her attention but she keeps her eyes trained on the view before her even as the sound stops all together.

“How did I know I’d find you here.” A all too familiar feminine voice asks, there’s some playfulness behind her tone as she laughs over what easily could’ve been a question that came out more as a statement.

“Maybe I’m not as reticent as I perceived myself to be.”

She can hear the other woman's steps begin to draw closer, and right before the woman is right next to her she can smell her potent perfume of Egyptain musk.

“Or maybe it’s because your bedroom has the best view in the house.”

She looks over to her company, sees the other woman's flawlessly long blonde hair kept immaculate throughout the years. 

The blonde flips her hair over her shoulder, allowing the other woman to take in all her royal beauty.

Her company’s dark alluring eyes, that have always held a sort of impishness in them even at the most serious of time, is the first thing she notices; followed by her refined makeup, smokey brown eyeshadow, and long lashes coated in mascara, her full cheekbones dusted in a fine layer of blush, while her grinning lips were painted in the sharpest of reds, and lastly her marble skin that matched her own. 

That woman had always held this seductive beauty that most men and women alike practically foamed at the mouth over.

It wasn’t just how she looked, but how she carried herself also. So much confidence it practically oozed out of her.

The other woman doesn’t know if that’s why she holds this very slight disdain for her, or if it was created by the sheer fact that the blonde has always lived life without much regrets.

It’s unfathomable to her how someone that has endured so much suffering, and willingly participated in wickedness is able to look at it all and just laugh.

The blonde once had confronted her out of foolishness, anyone else would have called it bravery. She asks why it is that her counterpart looks at her so distastefully, maybe even angrily, to which she pierced her dagger eyes into the blonde’s undying heart, looks with hatred to eyes that match ones that have always been all too knowing.

She doesn’t tell the blonde that she hates the way she laughs, full of nonchalance, hates how she sleeps with the pressure of the world and it’s even heavier burdens, which they both have reaped, on her heart and is still able to breathe easily; hates how they’re so much alike, but entirely different.

She can’t explain herself, doesn’t know how to explain that perhaps it isn’t hatred that she looks to her with. She can’t admit that she forces herself to meet her gaze, looks like how she does, unlike the mirrors she passes by without even so much as a glance, casting a reflection of what was there, but no image, too unwhole, too unrecognizable. 

But when she looks at the blonde, she sees recognition, of what they are, were, and always will be.

A clear image of what tragedy can do.

To which the blonde had always laughed after viewing.

For the blonde had always been taken up by amusement.

On the other hand she herself has no room left in her for anything other than this bile bitterness that has tainted her entire-being; has painted her heart the dullest color of black, an endless black hole that carries nothing but everything--consuming her until there’s nothing, filling her up until she’s infinitely hollow. 

She doesn’t _feel._

She knows.

“I love the winters in South Korea. It’s always so pretty this time of year.” The blonde admits, sighing with her eyes as she surveys the land coated by heavy layers of snow.

She returns her gaze to the scenery too, opting to spend this moment in silence that feels much heavier than the snow outside.

A perfect view of tranquil scenery that paints a picture of inescapable memories within her mind.

Doom to suffer them--doomed to know; to hear the hollowness ring endlessly in her; echoing deep with the ravine of her fissure soul; as the pure white snow before her flashes in a godless shade of crimson.

The beguiling eye of the painter, to which she is, has been, always will be.

A long enough moment passes before the blonde turns on her heel, a crooked grin on her face as she walks away in even strides, gracefully.

“Well, as much as I’d like to admire this beautiful scenery all day, I do have places to be, people to meet, things to kill. So little time in a day.” She informs, lightly laughing once she’s nearly at the gorgeous entryway leading to the bedroom. 

Because somehow everything has always been funny to her.

She turns around, following the blonde’s retreating form.“You’re taking care of the _accidental_ fledglings then?” She questions, her tone as hard as steel along with the look on her face.

The blonde smirks, “Of course. So long as you take care of the problem that keeps making new ones for us?”

She has to force herself not to clench her teeth together after hearing those words. “He has one more chance. After that he is done.” She replies, almost dead-like.

Truthfully she’s vibrating in place over this unnoticeable rage, for how she wants nothing more than to rip that man into barely sizable pieces--feel that almost orgasmic feeling rush through her as her hands would be tarnished in his pathetic blood.

_Deserving. Deserving. Deserving._

The blonde arches her highly defined brows, clearly shocked by the other woman’s answer. “I've never known you as someone who is able to give second chances, Minji.”

It was the truth too. After so many years of existing with one another, and working with her as more than not her loyal hound, it’s surprising to her to learn that Minji’s capable of reeling in her maniacal rage.

For she has seen Minji kill countless people without even so much as hesitating. She has seen her rip apart men, limb by limb - strangle women to death with her dainty hands - and toss the elderly into fire.

Never once having shed a tear for any of them. 

“I like to keep you surprised, _Dongie._ ” Minji bites, allowing Handong to see a glimpse of her true self, the one she knows too well.

In return Handong simply smiles, much to Minji’s ever-lasting disapproval.

“Don’t let the window swallow you whole while I’m gone.” Handong quips, chuckling, full of air before fixing Minji with this inscrutable look, “Otherwise whatever you’re waiting for will no longer be able to find you.”

Minji only looks at her with a dead expression before she turns her back on her.

Handong said no more after that, leaving the room without even another laugh to be heard.

Minji on the other hand, tightens her grip around the glass in her hand, the liquid rippling wildly as she shakes; the long vein in her neck protrudes.

She looks to her vineyard, bitter tears swelling up in her dark eyes-- _they burn._

In one swift motion she crushes the glass in her hands, the sounds of it shattering, falling from her bleeding hand to the floor, no louder than Minji’s own heart that screams in dying anguish.

Truthfully, she doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? X)
> 
> Buckle up friends because this is only the very beginning after all. If you felt any type of way from reading this chapter, please let me know down below. I always love reading your guys comments! Thanks again for reading! Until next time my friends, take care of yourselves and be safe. Xoxo


	2. We stumbled upon evil in July, and told ourselves it was just our eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I'm so excited to drop this chapter!!! AHHH! Thank you everyone from the bottom of my heart for leaving love on this story so far! ONCE AGAIN Y'ALL ARE AMAZING! (Let's face it, I'm never going to stop telling you guys that!) I wanted to drop this on Christmas day but it needed a few more parts written/edited so I couldn't drop it yesterday. But still, Merry Christmas everyone! I hope y'all had a nice day, and I hope everyone is staying happy and safe during these times! I'll stop talking now. Without further ado, ENJOY!

The hot water from inside Minji’s prestigious white clawfoot bathtub stings at her skin, burns with how much she has scrubbed her skin raw, cracking the top layer of her once smooth skin open, leaving her all red and damaged. Shades she paints through others sufferings, shades she consumes until the heart beats no longer, shades she is because rage is the color of crimson; for she has seen it many, many times. 

But at least she’s cleaned, minted even; a perfection that she’s learned to strive for no matter the cost.

She’s cleaned on the outside...But the blackened grim from which she has carelessly rolled around in--has stained her entire-being with, still remains caked to her hollow heart. The grim’s heavy layers that resemble dirty, tainted clay, hardening over her, concealing her. But easily can she be shattered. All it would take is the right tool--the _right person_ to break her open.

She has yet to meet that person, but soon she will; but neither of them know it.

_Soon. Soon. Soon._

Minji sinks down further into the bath, allowing the water to burn her as she closes her eyes--which had always been a dangerous move for her. Because that’s when she sees all the horror she has endured, memories she has begged to no longer remember until her throat was aflame; burning from how much she screams to forget-

_His calloused vile fingertips brush her youthful raven locks of hair behind her ear. She feels his touch dirty her, leaving unseeable black lines, engraving them into her flesh like a scar so that she’ll always have a trace of him_

_Always be his without truly ever being his._

_Minji stares over his broad shoulder, somewhere far into a unseeable distance, wishing that the ground would somehow split open, screaming in dying fury as it would swallow them both, send them to hell--burning him for eternity while the inextinguishable flames would take all of eternity to burn off the filth he has covered her in._

_‘I have made you, I have made you.’ It’s all she has heard, all she’s ever known; twenty-seven years of being crafted into someone else’s perfect image of what she should be._

_“Proper women raise their chin high, and keep their eyes trained to the floor, and sit with their ankles crossed behind the other to keep their modesty.” He tells her, snaking his hand behind her head, letting it rest there for a moment as he stares at Minji with fondness that is a mockery of something akin to nurturing, for it sings across his face like a bird but sounds, looks like that of a crow._

_For he had always eaten away at what was left of her._

_His aged features shift into a hallowing scowl. He pulls her long hair back, ripping out strands of her precious hair as he jerks her head backwards; Minji’s neck pops because of the sudden force. He hears it, but yet his hold remains. Minji had hissed in pain, but she never screamed._

_Because proper women don’t scream._

_“After all these years of endless training, my darling niece...Yet you have learned nothing.”_

_Minji remains silent. She has learned the hard way that speaking out brings nothing but pain, and leaves a bounty of misery in her soul; stabbing through her once good heart like the sharpest of knives, over and over; piercing her until she bleeds unfathomably._

_But never does she die._

_There was one point in her cursed existence where she had wished upon death, to attempt to achieve what no one should ever want._

_Minji remembers the freezing cold waters of the Han river, remembers a tide that had beckoned her for a swim, a release of herself and all her burdens. Light waters that somehow had the power to steal everything,_ take, take, take _; pull whoever down and hide them from the rest of the world in a sleep that’d no longer holds nightmare, nor dreams; a slumber that is endless as it is nothing._

_At one point that had sounded--had looked like perfection to Minji._

_There’s an ugly pause._

_In one swift motion her uncle is clenching her face in between his hand, squeezing with so much force Minji swears she’ll shatter under his bruising touch._

_"Destroy me. Destroy what you’ve made of me." Minji’s heart screams. She locks eyes with him, and she knows of the devil the moment of; sees him in her uncle’s demonic eyes._

Pulled from her damned nostalgia Minji claws at her face, leaves red lines that bloom from her suffering, growing endlessly from her pain.

It’s been centuries and she still feels his ungodly touch linger on her body.

She claws, scrubs at her face in a futile attempt to rid herself of him. She says the words she had screamed all those years ago, she wields it with everything she has, “You and I are not the same!!!!”

Although they’re both monsters, both in different forms; Minji would never be the greater evil. 

Her undying heart screams: _Am I your perfection now? Your perfect woman?!_

Minji was not that same young woman as before. She was different now.

Destroyed by men. Perfected by their spilled blood.

Yet, still ruined all together.

Years, upon years, have passed; too many, too little. Minji remembers it all. Everyone else has forgotten. 

Such is the case in life. A new day, a new clean slate.

But that has never been the case for her. Everyday she wakes up from her all too real nightmares, roams the halls of her manor; the mazes of her vineyard-- _and remembers._

Remembers all that others have long forgotten, most having died; relieved from their painful memories--spared from a fate that Minji wishes she could have replaced with their own. 

Minji leans forward, tucking her knees to her chest, cradling herself as she forces her mind off the topic, moves onto other things in hopes to keep what’s left of her sanity.

Handong should be back any time now. After being gone for a few days, on the hunt for a _man_ that was blessed with a second chance that he has undoubtedly thrown away at the price of his hunger, the cost of blood that Minji prays for his sake he hasn’t shed.

For she’s done paying the high cost of damage that he has senselessly scratched the price off from many times.

Minji needs her reckoning, she needs to paint this white canvas in crimson; drenched it even with his pathetic blood.

_Blood of a coward._

A familiar click from heels of stylish boots echoes throughout the manor’s large hallways before stopping at the frame of the bathroom’s door, and then Handong finds Minji--Handong had always been the one to find her.

Save her, serve her, suffer with her.

A doomed cycle, an eternal eclipse; for in this existence there was never no changing of the moon's phases, nor no sun that rose and fell; rise and failed.

In this existence there are deep-tilted grounds that rotated in circles, a repeating cycle of; _walk, walk, walk_ \--but never did it lead anywhere. Trapped by themselves in an endless loop they keep in because it’s easier to do what they know than to ever form a new pattern.

It’s easier for Handong to simply smile, as if this blighted eclipse never left her wondering if this world ever truly had a light worth finding, a reason behind all in which fate does; a meaning behind why life has to wrongly give its sorrows to them.

It’s easier for Handong to laugh louder than God then to ever give him a moment to explain all in which he allows.

Minji had screamed at her once many, many years ago, Handong would say Minji had pleaded, begged even to understand why it is that she smiles without a care, without regrets; what was there to laugh at, to find joy in?

To which Handong’s reply had been yet another curl of her delicate lips.

She had told her counterpart that it’s easier to smile than to frown at all they’ve endured. Easier to pretend that if she finds humor in the unbelievable bile bitterness, heart-rendering sorrow even, than to ever allow it to control her. Shape her even, molded her into something unrecognizable.

Handong hadn’t told her that the day she stops smiling is the day that she has lost herself somewhere in the sadden dirt of those tilted circles.

Because Minji would never understand, never even try to. For she has allowed pain and suffering to render her into the knowing but all too unknown; a blackened hallway she runs in, running from the chasing of her own demons but never does she escape them.

She has embraced their cold touch, ease into the darkness. Because it’s easier to surrender to the pain than to fight against it. 

Most would say that makes Minji the weaker of the two of them, maybe they're right. But to Handong they couldn’t be more wrong.

To live life with nothing but anger is to spend an eternity believing that the tragic past is important enough to keep them stuck in it, suffocating in hollowness--dying yet again.

Handong refuses to be stuck in the past, refuses to rot with everything that has rotted Minji’s heart.

And Minji has been nothing but a miserable viewing of what tragedy can do, showing it by how she exists; viewable by the red lines that are embedded into her beautiful face, Handong could see--has always seen what Minji’s suffering causes her.

And that is why Minji will always be stronger. 

“Sanghoon has been missing for days. I can't even find him.” Handong finally informs at the doorway, as to not intrude on Minji when she’s in such a bare state.

Minji’s shoulders stiffen, riddled with constricting tension.

_Paint, remember, walk. Paint, remember, walk. Paint, remember, walk._

“You must know what this means Minji.” Handong doesn’t ask. Because she knows that Minji doesn’t feel, _she knows_ , “He's on a feeding bender again.” 

Crimson fiery hot anger rises in Minji's gut, steaming up all the way to her head; threatening to boil the water with her still in it as she remains unmoving. Her dark eyes staring out into the far distance as if she’s looking for someone.

“Like always he’ll return.” Minji knows him too well, thinks she does at least. For she had said it with certainty, as if at any moment now Sanghoon will come walking through the manor’s front doors, begging for her forgiveness once again. 

For the longest time that’s how it always has been. Sanghoon being her faithful servant, a friend too some might say.

At one point in time Minji might have said that their relationship was more than that, something akin to a father like daughter closeness. But she realizes that was never the case. For Sanghoon never held the courage to protect her when she most needed him too. Despite tending to her wounds after various beatings - brushing her hair when it was all knotted, ruined by the cruel hands of her uncle - and lending his own soft shoulder for Minji to quietly weep upon at times where she couldn’t suppress her sorrow any longer--Sanghoon would never be her protector, for he had always been a coward. 

There’s a bitter pause.

“And then you’ll have no chances left to give.” Handong notes.

Minji hates that Handong is right--hates how she always is.

***

There’s something about the month of July that renders the world into dormancy, stopping the world on it’s axial like that in a remembering moment inside of one's lucid dreams.

It’s neither too hot, nor too cold; not the beginning, nor the ending.

Right in the middle, a perfect balance.

But just like perfection it never seems too real.

Yoohyeon still appreciates July regardless. She relishes within the days that the month gives. Whether that be allowing the sunlight to warm her skin on days she’d spend inside the cool police station, for it always was cold in there; Joohyun’s need to keep the thermostat at 62° degrees at all times was the reason as to why it’s always so chilly inside there, and _-Godforbid-_ anyone even so much as attempt to touch the thermostat when she’s around. Or whether it be the chilly, but somehow comforting, nights when Yoohyeon walks through the neon lit streets of Busan on another midnight snack run.

Then there are the days in July that remain in the in between.

Days where it pours down heavy rain, like a pitcher whose liquid never runs out. Sometimes it feels endless how the rain keeps going for days on end, as if the heavens above could drown the country out if they really wanted to; filling the world in a layer of deepless blue. But the rain had always stopped after a few days, a tease from the heavens--a jest that says: _You’ll live for now._

The weather in July within South Korea is a drastic change from July in Texas back in America, Yoohyeon had never forgotten. For July’s days back home had ranged anywhere from 94° to 97° degrees on average; the minimum temperature usually had fallen between 75° to 79°. There was never really a in between either, for the days back home in July are either hot or damn near scorching.

(Yoohyeon still remembers when her Gahyeon had attempted to fry an egg on the sidewalk back when they were little girls, for they believed that the scorching heat was able to cook the egg. Of course it didn’t, but to their childish minds it had come close.)

Five years have passed since Yoohyeon’s arrival in South Korea, and she still misses the unyielding harsh sunlight that always shines down in Texas. She misses the long winding dirt roads that led further into nowhere more than they ever did lead to somewhere. She misses the forever untamable scenery that either blooms with life in shades of living greens from a forest of trees and long blades of grass, and shades of soulful blues from the wild bluebonnets that would align the dirt roads and fill up the seemingly endless fields as far as the eye could see. Or the opposite, scenery that withered the once living greens and the once soulful wild bluebonnets; dusting the ground in dirt that the wind could never sweep away, nor could it move the large mountains whose foundations are as old as the earth’s core.

Yoohyeon misses the summer carnivals held close to her parent’s home. She misses going to them with Gahyeon, having permission to or not. 

She misses Gahyeon.

She misses her parents.

Yoohyeon would say she misses her home in Texas too. But the thing is, it isn’t her home anymore, really. 

Not when she’s found the perfect home within the heart of Bora. A heart that holds so much more than what any four walls of a perfect mansion ever could; more than what Texas ever did have, more than what South Korea could ever hope of having.

Bora is Yoohyeon’s true home.

Finding a home in Bora was like winning a million dollars from a scratch off. It’s not something unimaginable, but it had been something that Yoohyeon thought wasn’t in her cards, as if she’d never be lucky enough for fate to choose her as it’s winner.

Another thing is, neither Bora, nor Yoohyeon know who is actually the winner. Because to Bora she considers herself lucky for winning Yoohyeon’s heart. So in Bora’s eyes she’s the winner solely because Yoohyeon helped her to become one. On the other hand, Yoohyeon considers herself lucky for finding Bora and willingly giving her heart away to Bora without the woman ever needing to ask for it. So in Yoohyeon’s eyes she’s the winner for finding Bora’s light at the end of that long dark tunnel, and being able to finally rest her heart in Bora’s fragile hands, not knowing that Bora too gave her heart away the moment she saw her. 

Though the two women didn’t exactly give their hearts up at first sight, having not felt that supposed _“love-at-first-sight-type-of-thing”._ However, there was no denying that somehow they still did give their hearts up from that moment moving forward.

Just because one doesn’t feel something in the moment does not mean it isn’t there. A caterpillar is a caterpillar until it’s not; eventually it changes into a butterfly. An occurrence that has always been inevitable--as was Bora loving Yoohyeon, and Yoohyeon loving Bora.

Maybe love at first sight isn’t all too true, yet maybe it is. But in a way that’s changing--shaping even until love transforms into what it was destined to be all along.

And who would Yoohyeon be if she didn’t believe in destiny? And who would Bora be if not a fool to it? A woman roped along because she comprehends such things not.

She will eventually, but for now the one thing she is sure of, without a shadow of a doubt, is that she loves Kim Yoohyeon, and she too loves her back.

It goes without saying that they’ll remain at each other's side even through the heaviest of rain.

However, at the moment, they’re neither at each other’s sides, nor is it raining.

It’s the dark of the night, countless stars fill the sky and shine beautifully, like glistening diamonds in wedding rings.

Fitting, really.

Yoohyeon stands off in the corner, on a call with her mother, from within the see-through marquee, which is embroidered with many hanging strings of led lights The warm hue of the lights glows with this burning shine that illuminates Yoohyeon and all the wedding attendees in soft shades of golds that make them look like paintings from the Renaissance; making everything look and feel so divine.

The two brides are clothed in white dresses, two beautiful angels in love; joined together by their souls that feel paradisiacal.

The tallest bride stands beside her wife, who is sitting at the main toasting table, looking up to her other half with stars in her eyes, and passion burning from within her heart as she listen to her wife's poetically driven toast; the grandest declaration of love told from a humble heart and spoken from soft lips that tremble with heavy emotion.

_“Shuhua, everyday you look beautiful, and I am the fool who paints my face in colors that reminds me of you, so I can show you everyday that you make me beautiful too.”_

Yoohyeon hears Miyeon, Bora’s cousin, speak into the microphone. Yoohyeon glances over her shoulder to see that Miyeon is already shedding happy tears, Shuhua quickly stands up to help her wife wipe her tears away as Miyeon struggles to finish her toast to her, overwhelmed by joy.

The whole time Yoohyeon’s mother continues to derail from the main topic as to why she called in the first place, which had something to do with Gahyeon before switching over to talk about how their neighbor and his son had gone hunting earlier this year and managed to snag the biggest buck.

_“Your father said that they put holy water on the bullets and prayed to God that a big buck would come their way. If that doesn’t make someone a redneck, I don’t know what does.”_

Yoohyeon isn’t surprised in the slightest.

Although as interesting as her mother’s story is, Yoohyeon does have a wedding that demands her utmost attention, and judging from the looks that Bora’s family is giving her; she’s positive that being on her cell phone the moment that the brides are giving their toasts is like the biggest douche move.

And Yoohyeon is far from being a douche, and she most certainly doesn’t want her best friend’s family to think of her as one.

“Mom, can I call you back in a few hours? I’m still at the wedding.” She asks, glancing back over her shoulder to see that Miyeon is crying somewhat less.

Yoohyeon’s mom shuffles on the other end of the phone. _“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you that long on the phone. I’ll let you go then, talk to you later, honey.”_

“Okay I’ll talk to you then. I love you.”

On the other end of the phone Mina smiles wistfully, for she misses her daughter terribly. Feels the geyser of sadness, the longing to see Yoohyeon again, set off in her heart; steaming her loving heart until it dries up, matches the dirt and dust that the wind is never able to pick up--unable to carry her back to Yoohyeon. _“I love you too.”_ She tells her daughter, means it with all she has because she no longer has Yoohyeon there with her.

One day, not too far from now Yoohyeon will be reunited with her. But not under the circumstances that they both want. 

Yoohyeon ends the call without saying goodbye, her kept ritual of love between her family and herself.

Because in her heart it’s never goodbye, forever, always, another: _Until next time._

When Yoohyeon turns back around she instantly catches Bora’s loving stare from across the room, where she sits next to her own mother. An empty chair next to Bora’s left, one that Yoohyeon had been preoccupying.

Yoohyeon's smile coincides perfectly with Bora’s own.

 _“Everyday you look beautiful, my love. But today you look like tomorrow...Y-you look like the rest of my life….I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”_ Miyeon speaks once more, crying again, prompting several attendees to shed tears over how beautiful her words are, that and how she is crying with so much immeasurable joy.

By the time Yoohyeon sits back down beside Bora, Miyeon is relentlessly apologizing into the microphone for crying, she still has yet to finish her speech, her emotions are getting the best of her. The whole time Shuhua kisses Miyeon’s eyes as she brushes her wife’s tears away with the back of her knuckles, and whispers in Miyeon’s ear how much she’s in love with her--how beautiful Miyeon is and always will be.

_“And in the end, when we both are old and grey. I’ll be the prettiest I’ve ever been because of you….Because you’d have made my life so undeniably beautiful. You make me so happy Shuhua...I love you with everything I have, and I don’t need to promise you that. Because I’m certain that I will always love you no matter what.”_

Shuhua finally loses her composure, crying as she sinks into her wife’s strong arms, strengthened over the years from carrying Shuhua’s unfathomably huge heart in her hands; Miyeon welds it without possession, ownership even. Because love has never been about conquering one's heart; it’s about guardianship, protecting those they love at the cost of themselves, being entrusted to wield a sword that can either protect out of devotion or harm out of blinding attachment.

The whole room erupts into loud applause, and even some wailing sobs of joy as Miyeon kisses Shuhua with so much passion that every one can feel it, lifting the guests’ hearts up, causing their hearts to beat in a manner that sounds like a melody from a harp, played with so much sweetness it reminds every one that life is indeed wonderful.

Even Bora, who by all means, can hardly stomach such sappiness, feels her own heart become coated with that sweet sap from unconditional love until it melts within her--warming her soul like the first sip of coffee in the morning.

“That was so beautiful.” Breathes Yoohyeon.

Bora looks to her side, meeting her best friend’s eyes once more; only then does she understand Miyeon’s words, for she sees them written inside of Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes that look at her with so much adoration.

Bora is certain that she loves Yoohyeon, and will forever--until her days on this earth are no more.

***

After the toast between the brides and exchanging gifts from their guests to them, Bora stands at the punch bowl, fiddles with the latte as she scoops up the liquid, whose color reminds her of a setting sun, into two glasses. The whole time her eyes had caught every movement of her mother repeatedly flipping open the top of her cosmetics blush, inspecting every inch of herself in the tiny mirror; concerned over nothing--but to her there was always _something._

“Do my lips look blue to you?” Her mother seeks her utmost attention, lightly brushes her worn fingertips against Bora’s wrist to gain her daughter’s full attention.

When Bora looks to her mother she doesn’t see any trace of blue on her mother’s perfectly pink, healthy, _so-so healthy_ lips. But she does see unmistakable alarm sounding off like the wailing of powerful sirens in her mother’s dark brown eyes.

If anything was blue about her mother, it’d be this cursed rain cloud she carries over her head against her own will. It rains down on her every night, everyday; unyielding is its burden, who tries to wash away her mother; drowning her in shades of heart-breaking indigo.

Bora isn’t blinded to it.

In fact she has seen it all night, seen it in the way her mother rubs her chest in circle motions to try and calm a heart that’s beating as normal as a heart should; seen it in the way she checks her pulse with her fingers, swears her heart is ticking away like a timer; terrified that her numbers are closing down to zero; seen it in the way her mother pries too much into her relatives history of health so that she can check off her mental boxes on her list. A list that Bora wishes she could sit on fire, free her mother from it’s strong hold; free the both of them from this chain that wraps around their whole bodies, entire-beings, _squeezes, squeezes, squeezes_ until their both out of breath--out of strength to fight this battle that neither of them can truly see.

Yet, Bora has always seen it. Ever since she could remember her mother has been fighting this war, losing everyday. Yet she still lives, exists in her own plane of existence that gives nothing but false hope and omens of sickness that are lies. 

“No, they look pink.” Bora reassures her mother, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Her mother nods her head, soothed for enough time for Bora to hand her a cup of punch before she once again resorts to flipping open her blush case.

That _-Godforsaken-_ clicking noise has permanently branded itself inside of Bora’s mind, for she hears it and _hears it_ ; played on a mocking loop inside her head. Even when she closes her eyes for a moment’s peace she hears the click, over and over--a tease, a laugh, a: _I’m here. You can’t protect her. I’m here. You can’t protect her. I’m here._

Bora clenches her jaw before raking her teeth across the bottom row as her heart shrieks, sounds like that of wheels from a runaway train attempting to be forced at a halt, which only causes resigned black smoke to roll out from under the tracks to fill up Bora’s lungs until she could no longer breathe.

She’s drowning in dispirited smoke.

_Drowning, drowning, drowning._

That is until Yoohyeon is back at her side, pulling her out of that dark smoke once she rests her loving hand on Bora’s shoulder and smiles in a way that she understands, despite not knowing how thick this smoke is, how long it has lingered in Bora’s entire-being; how everyday it threatens to trap her behind it’s ungodly midnight layers--have her vanish from the rest of the world forever.

But Yoohyeon wouldn’t allow it.

Yoohyeon would never lose Bora to the smoke.

Not when Bora has done nothing but protect others. So for once, a massive change for Bora as it is a blessing, Yoohyeon wants to be the one who protects her.

Somehow Bora knows that, knows that all Yoohyeon wants from her is to allow her the labor of shielding her brash heart when Bora no longer has the sword to fight off her own demons. For she sees it in the way Yoohyeon looks to her as they all walk back to their table, her eyes warm and sincerely loyal.

It makes Bora’s heart tick in a way that’s not so comforting. 

As much weight as Yoohyeon has already lifted from Bora’s shoulders should be enough. That is why Bora silently refuses to allow Yoohyeon to fully stand in for her, not when Bora still has some strength left in her, and the need to protect Yoohyeon also--to protect her above all else.

But neither of them will fully surrender their causes tonight. They both know what they want, and they will see it through until the very end. Until Bora allows Yoohyeon to protect her when her brash heart is too weak to fight back, and when Yoohyeon finally understands that Bora loves her too much that she doesn’t tell her secrets, nor her truth because she’s absolutely terrified that Yoohyeon will see the scared uncertain little girl that’s somehow still lives in her. The little girl that was forced to grow up at such a young age in order to survive, in order to fight and save the only person she had left.

Bora looks to her mother at her side, and for the first time tonight she sees blue, sees it from the tears swelling up in her own eyes; sees it in the far future and deeply aching past. A cursed alliance formed between indigo clouds and midnight smoke; their shades coat the world in layers of heartbreaks and leave deeply imprinted lines of the unknown, kept within their hearts.

_I’m here. You can’t protect her. I’m here. You can’t protect her. I’m here._

It’s not too long after all their cups of punch are drank, the tasty liquid swirling around in their bellies; colliding painful against the walls of Bora’s guts the whole time she had listen to her mother probe into Yoohyeon’s life. Her mother’s unwavering curiosity too much for Bora to handle once she saw Yoohyeon fidgeting with her cross necklace and running her tongue over her teeth in a futile attempt to subdue the consist itching of them.

It’s two of Yoohyeon biggest nervous ticks. Bora had picked up on them after months of working together, eventually Yoohyeon had told her about them.

Bora wishes she could open up in the same way; wishes she could tell Yoohyeon what makes her soul itch in a manner that leaves her riddled in fear over something she can’t shoot away. She wishes she could tell her best friend that she often daydreams about picking up her old BB gun and sniping the head off of her mother’s mental illness--finally freeing her after many long years of being held in it’s torturing captivity.

But she can’t. Not when it reveals too much--shows her heart that isn’t just brash but entirely unrealistic.

And Bora….Bora hates being unrealistic, for she has learned the hard way that dreaming is only pleasant when she’s asleep. Because after she wakes up and learns that those happy scenarios are limited to her dreams; she’s left knowing that only dreams can hold the attainable that will always otherwise be something that’s never accessible when she’s awake. 

Again, it’s one of those contradicting matters of life, fate, or whatever-the-hell this greater power is.

A little cute joke it tells to keep whoever it is in charge entertained.

Bora’s tired of being the universe’s laughing-stock as much as she’s worn out from protecting the unprotectable. 

For her mother had always cast herself into devouring auburn flames, but always against her own will.

“Pardon me if I’m intruding, dear. But I’ve noticed you’ve been bothering your teeth all night. Is everything okay?” Her mother asks Yoohyeon. Bora can’t tell if it’s from a place of sincerity this time, the best part of her mother or from the sickness, who demands to have it’s questions answered; demands to have control.

Yoohyeon is only briefly taken back by her question, realizing in that split second what she’s doing with her hands and tongue. She immediately lets go of her necklace, returning her hand to her lap and forcing her tongue to keep busy by talking, “Um, yeah. It’s a habit of mine. My teeth itch when I’m feeling nervous.” She’s honest _-God-_ she always is, Bora loves that about her.

However. Bora’s mother doesn’t seem too convinced. Her eyebrows furrowing close together as she leans forward in her seat, closer to Yoohyeon, who sits at the opposite side of the table. “You’re sure that’s what it is? Itching teeth are a tell-tale sign of gum disease, dear.”

Yoohyeon shifts in her seat, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, she’s already spent a good proportion of the night answering the woman’s barrage of questions. Most had been pertaining to her past endeavors, the usual: _“Where’d you go to school?”_ \- _“How was your time at KNPU?”_ \- _“Are you finding South Korea to your liking?”_ \- _“Your parents must be proud of you? I’m sure they miss you too?”_

Those had been expected questions that anyone would ask upon meeting someone for the first time. Because after all this was Yoohyeon’s first time meeting Bora’s mother.

Bora had warned her about her mother’s innocent nosiness weeks before being invited as _“Bora’s date”_ to the wedding. So Yoohyeon had thought she was pretty prepared to meet the woman, who had blessed her life by giving life to Bora.

But after the initial highly nerve-racking meeting, which had gone off without a hitch because Yoohyeon was easily the type of girl that any mother would want their son or daughter to bring home to, or in this case attend a wedding with. The woman’s questions had shifted into _very, very awkward_ ones that neither Bora or Yoohyeon had been ready for at the time, the usual motherly questions of: _“So how did you two met?”_ \- That one had been innocent, if not just the norm before she had followed up with - _“I just have to ask, are you two dating?”_ \- Both Bora and Yoohyeon nearly died at that one.

As awkward, if not just a little bit funny, that whole ordeal had been, it was easier for Yoohyeon to answer those questions than the one Bora’s mother had just asked her.

“I-I..I think-” Yoohyeon tries to reply before Bora’s mother cuts her off.

“My aunt had a horrible case of gum disease once. It formed an infection within her teeth and she had to get them all removed at the young age of twenty-one. I would go to a dentist if I were you. It’s better to be safe than sorry.” She urges Yoohyeon, looking at the young woman with great concern, as if she truly believes Yoohyeon was suffering from something yet to be diagnosed.

Once again, Yoohyeon isn’t sure what to say. But she does think about if that were the case she’s two years past the age of what the woman’s aunt had been. Yet her teeth are still intact, perfect even. However, she still can’t help but to squirm around in her seat at the thought of all her teeth suddenly falling out one day as much as she can’t help but to feel slightly uncomfortable over the woman’s lingering gaze she keeps on her, full of worry in her dark brown eyes.

“She’s fine, mom.” Bora quietly reassures, piercing the air taut with tension.

Yoohyeon glances between the two of them, sees a reflection of them both in each other, for Bora’s mother looked like an older version of her daughter. She was just a bit taller and her hair was darker then Bora’s own.

Bora has her eyes glued to the silverware in front of her, wearing a look upon her face that Yoohyeon can’t quite read. While Bora’s mother looks at her daughter, slightly offended.

“I was just offering her advice.”

Bora finally looks up to her. “Well sometimes it’s best to keep things to ourselves.” She says, tired.

With that, the air stills again before glossing over with this heavy layer of tension once more.

Yoohyeon’s heart stumbles, falls to her gut as she’s quick to try and settle things before they get out of hand, “It’s fine Bora. Eunseo is looking out for me.” She refers to Bora’s mother on a first name basis without tacking on the honorific of, “ssi” solely because Eunseo asked her too. It’s her little hint that she likes Yoohyeon already.

Bora locks eyes with Yoohyeon, sees in her best friends's ever-lasting warm brown eyes that Yoohyeon finally understands the hidden implication that Bora had told her all those months ago back at the Han river.

_‘I knew the moment that I came out of the womb that she wasn’t the same woman who had carried me for nine months.’_

Bora’s throat bobs, but her features remain stonewalled as she stares into Yoohyeon’s eyes; realizing that now Yoohyeon knows too much without knowing the true extent of things. But it doesn’t matter to her, she’s ready to step in; to fight this battle alongside Bora at the cost of getting hurt herself.

Bora won’t allow it. 

This isn’t Yoohyeon’s war to be fought--to get hurt in. To be battered and bruised, to feel that pain brought on from heartache; to be left scarred and changed because life’s hardships demanded part of her former self to keep as a trophy, a token that shows that so far it’s winning this war. 

Bora refuses to let Yoohyeon pitch in her hopeful heart, to throw it to the wolves who’d rip it to shreds without a second thought. All Bora wants is to protect Yoohyeon--to save her hopeful heart at the cost of her own healed one.

“You see? It isn’t a crime to look out for the well-being of others.” Eunseo chimes in, rubbing her hand over her heart as she stares at the side of her daughter’s head.

Something flares awake from within Bora’s chest.

She looks at the silverware once more, hoping that neither her mother, nor Yoohyeon see the frustration rising across her features “I never said it was.” She says through gritted teeth, her hands clenching fistfuls of fabric from her dress. Her mother’s words had sounded biting, tantalizing even, an: _I’m protecting her, can’t you see that?_

Bora finds the words her mother had spoken to be painfully ironic. What does she know of crimes? She’s never been at a crime scene, never seen the damage wicked people leave all throughout the city of Busan; home invasions, priceless possessions stolen. Local stores robbed of their hard earned money; their sweat, tears and blood they spent on their business to keep afloat. She hasn’t seen just the shell of former happy young girls, who had their innocent stolen from them by twisted men. She hasn’t seen young men beaten black and blue from their family, whose only right to put their hands on their child should be to hold them with love and tend to them with the utmost care, like how a true family should. Not leave their child riddled in bruises and toss them aside like a dirty dish rag, all dried up and worn because there is no more use for them in their families eyes.

What does her mother know of the law? She hasn’t spent the majority of her life studying it, living and breathing it in, as if that’s all she knows.

What does she know of protecting others and being scoffed at for it? She doesn’t know what it’s like to do nothing but good in a world that praises all the wrong things. Doesn’t know how it feels to be spit upon by senseless people, who curse and swear upon her name every time Bora even so much as puts on that badge, wears that promise that no matter who it is she’ll keep them safe. To protect others who wouldn’t even so much as think about laying their life down for her. 

What does her mother know of having a heart that embodies everything this life tries to hide away, tries to deem unfit because it feels more than what the order of things ever will?

She’ll never know that in this society having a brash heart is what makes a person weak, it’s what makes her daughter the enemy, despite her being nothing akin to evil.

And that is the biggest crime that the world has turned it’s blind eye to.

“Can we not talk about this? We’re at a wedding, ya know? We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves, and be celebrating a new beginning in life. We’re not supposed to be talking about what sickness is going to kill us first or not.” Bora snarls, chooses words that she knows will hurt. For the first time in her life she chooses to strike with a sword that is double bladed; piercing her mother’s heart along with her own.

It was just in that moment of true weakness that Bora had lost herself somewhere in that midnight smoke, exhausted from breathing in it’s toxic fumes. She instantly regrets her words the moment she looks up to see her mother’s pained expression.

The darkest shade of blue she’s ever seen her mother wear.

Eunseo’s eyes dart away from her daughter’s own eyes that are overflowing with remorse. She slowly rises from her seat, slipping out from between the chair and table. “I’m going to get more punch.” She informs sadly before turning on her heel without giving her daughter a second look.

Bora looks to Yoohyeon once more, and Yoohyeon sees everything in Bora’s eyes; sees sadness that Bora had only shown her one time--that being during her confession at the Han river.

Finally Yoohyeon realizes that she’s the only one Bora had told her secret to, and that she is the only person Bora trusts enough to see her at her weakest.

If Bora didn’t trust Yoohyeon or love her as much as she does. She would have never invited Yoohyeon to the wedding, never would have allowed her this close to home; never would have silently aired her secrets to her, and revealed a heart that so desperately needs someone to shield it from time to time.

Yoohyeon’s heart, leaps, falls, and shatters for her.

“Bora…”

Bora immediately shakes her head, refusing. “I’m sorry.” She breathes, fully sincere.

Yoohyeon watches her best friend rise from the table before chasing after her own mother, vanishing from behind the crowd.

Yoohyeon’s heart sinks further in her stomach, along with it she sinks in her seat; thinks about how Bora is still far from perfect yet she tries to be that for those she loves.

***

Bora’s mother avoids her for the rest of the night, darts in and out of the crowd when she hears her daughter calling her name, grabbing at her wrist in a futile attempt to stop her.

Eunseo knows her daughter messed up. Bora probably didn’t even mean a word of what she said. However, Eunseo is determined to protect her own heart. She could hardly handle feeling the sharp jab of pain through her chest that she instantly felt over hearing her daughter's words--bleeding from a new wound that her daughter slashed into her; almost dying from old wounds that opened right back up afterwards.

Why is it that the people she loves the most do nothing but hurt her?

Bora gives up searching for her mother around the time the brides begin their father and daughter dances, respectively.

However, she’s determined to find her mother before the night is over, before Eunseo gets a ride with one of her cousins again.

Her mother needs to hear how unbelievably sorry she is, how all she wants is to protect her. But sometimes this sword, this tool meant to protect, feels too heavy in her hands, causing her to stumble which pierces the troubled heart that belongs to her mother.

(Oh, if only Bora knew that Eunseo wanted to protect her too. But her troubled heart demanded her fear and chased away her courage a long time ago.)

***

By the time Yoohyeon is done making her rounds, talking with the various wedding guests and the two wonderful brides themselves, most of wedding attendees are gracefully making their way to the center of the floor; readying their lovers to dance to the angelic tune of: Iron and Wine “Flightless Bird, American Mouth.” A surprising choice of song. Another win for America for great music; and another win for the gays that South Korea finally legalized gay marriage after years of straddling the fence on it.

(Yoohyeon supposes that the main people in charge here finally realized that there are definitely more important things to worry about in life than to concern themselves with who marries who.)

Yoohyeon watches with doe eyes, love sighing in her heart, as she witnesses lovers gently swaying to the beat, their figures illuminated by warm yellow hues resembling that of a halo’s soft glow; for it coats the small group of people as they dance without worry, without sorrow, only love is found here.

And love finds Yoohyeon, as it always would.

Bora finds Yoohyeon, gently tapping her shoulder, prompting the girl to look her way.

Bora bows ever-so-slightly, fondness twinkling in her dark eyes. “May I have this dance?” She asks flirtatiously, her hand waiting in the air between them for Yoohyeon to take it. 

Yoohyeon’s breath hitches, stolen away by Bora’s beauty. Sure, she has noticed it all night. The first time she noticed her best friend’s beauty tonight was the moment Bora pulled up to her apartment in her 1978 Dodge Aspen, waiting outside of it in her soft pink but well fitted off the shoulder dress whose length touches the floor, making Bora look like that of a queen. While the dress wasn’t normally her style it was the perfect pick for her cousin's wedding--the perfect match to Yoohyeon’s dusty blue over the shoulder chiffon lace dress whose fabric ruffled at the ends of the dress whose length also touches the floor.

But it wasn’t just Bora’s dress that made her beautiful, it was also her long hair she curled in waves; and her simple but unbelievably pretty dolled up face. For she wore a layer of soft pink blush that dusted her cheeks, painted her full lips a light shade of red, and brushed her eyelids in shades of browns and golds, layered her long eyelashes with a striking coat of black mascara.

Yoohyeon on the other hand has her hair kept up in a perfect bun. Some loose strands of hair fell from it, framing her innocently beautiful face in a manner that it hurts Bora to look at her, causing her warming ache to see Yoohyeon fixed up in makeup that resembles that of Cinderella.

 _-God-_ Yoohyeon really was an American princess to her. 

The moment Yoohyeon places her soft hand into Bora’s, giving it a fond squeeze, Bora knows that Yoohyeon is not only just a American princess--but hers.

“Of course. But what do I owe thee the pleasure?” Yoohyeon teases, looking at her with stars in her warm brown eyes as Bora leads them to the dance floor.

“I figured you could pretend that I’m Joohyun, holding you in my arms as we dance underneath the moonlight.” Bora says dramatically, her tone dreamy, “How’s that for your fantasy?”

Yoohyeon fondly rolls her eyes before placing her hands on Bora’s shoulders the moment they find their slow rhythm in the middle of the dance floor. “You’re never going to let me live that coffee incident down are you?”

Bora rests her hands on Yoohyeon’s hips while she sways the two of them perfectly, romantically even. “It’s not just that incident. You're pretty obvious with your pinning, Pabo.”

“Shut up.” Yoohyeon laughs, her heart blooming with happiness, like a field full of bright sunflowers--as Bora gently twirls her outwards before bringing her back in. Only then does Yoohyeon melt into her best friend’s embrace, leaning down ever-so-slightly to rest the side of her head on Bora’s shoulder.

There she somehow hears Bora’s heart, beating off tune to the song that they both ease into listening to.

_“Have I found you? Flightless bird, jealous, weeping.”_

“Sorry that I’m not nearly as tall.” Bora mutters shyly, if not bare with heavy emotion. Her heart is in her throat as she sways Yoohyeon with so much love behind her movements she swears it’s something akin to dying as it is akin to living. Because something about having Yoohyeon’s arms wrap further around her neck as she moves in closer feels so nice--so peaceful; it feels like waking up to a dewy morning while the morning doves coo in the sleepy sky.

_“Or lost you? American mouth. Big pill looming.”_

“You’re perfect.” Yoohyeon quietly reassures her, sighing once she tastes Bora’s vanilla perfume on her tongue; closing her eyes right after to further feel the surreal warmth that Bora shields her in.

Bora gently rests her chin on the top of Yoohyeon’s head while trying to settle her wildly beating heart before she breathes out, “So are you.”

A few dancers, and even more wedding attendees look their way, swearing that those are the two women in love tonight, for they see it in the way Bora holds Yoohyeon with so much care; how Yoohyeon eases impossibly further into Bora like a lover would, relishing all the contentment that Bora brings her.

What they don’t know is that Bora and Yoohyeon are not lovers. But they are in love--just in a way that no one will understand. Because their love isn’t something so easy to categorize, nor is it something that can be put into a box.

Their love holds no labels, isn’t restricted by them. It is free, not abiding to anyone else's rules but their own.

Their own secret defiance in a world that demands obedience.

However, love has never been a submissive thing, nor is the heart that follows its own wills.

Neither is Yoohyeon who follows her own wills--her own heart.

For she would gladly stay in Bora’s arms, swaying to the melody of this song, that is now their own, and feeling as if she’s being lit on fire with indescribable love that burns from within her heart. So long as Bora holds her like she is now, Yoohyeon would feel peace, would feel love, would feel so undeniably home again.

Bora doesn’t know that, not really at least. If only because she doesn’t comprehend such unyielding matters of one's heart; doesn’t understand why it is that every time she feels the other woman’s heart skip a beat, leap out from her chest even, Bora finds herself wanting to catch it, protect it in her shaky hands that she slides up Yoohyeon’s back before stopping at her shoulder blades, to which Bora only pulls her closer.

Yoohyeon’s eyelids flutter open, and her sight is greeted by the heart-warming view of Miyeon dipping Shuhua down to the floor, smiling at her before she brings her back up, pulls her closer as their expressions ever-so-slowly change from joyest ones to that of something dreary, allowing themselves to feel the heavy weight of the world on their dainty shoulders for just a moment--for a sense of clarify. Because they know life will still have it’s rough patches--spots that will silently hurt, but they’ll always have each other to kiss away the pain just as quietly. 

And in moments like this where Yoohyeon has a moment to take in life’s delicate implications she finds herself softly speaking the words Bora has never been reassured with before,“You know...you could’ve told me about your mother.”

Bora’s breath had almost been knocked right out of her constricting lungs after hearing her best friend’s words. But she had steeled herself a second later. 

She has to be strong.

She can’t lose herself to the smoke again. 

“I know you were trying to protect her. But I would’ve never thought differently about her or you.” Yoohyen tells her, and it’s the truth. Everything about Yoohyeon has been nothing but the truth, for she always held the honesty of a child and the wisdom of an old woman.

That’s how she knows what she knows now; knows that Bora’s mother isn’t like other mothers.

Bora’s throat bobs, Yoohyeon feels it. _“I know…..”_ Bora whispers, “I guess I’m just not good at opening up.” she adds a moment later.

There’s a heavy pause.

“And that’s okay.” Yoohyeon tells her while drawing patterns with the soft tips of her fingers on the back of Bora’s neck, in a manner that tells her: _You don’t have to be so strong all the time._ She lets her know that way because she knows Bora doesn’t want to hear it through words right now.

Bora’s heart cries.

Yet another weight Yoohyeon has removed from Bora's weary shoulders.

Yoohyeon leans back up straight so that she can look Bora in her eyes before she tells her the words she needs to hear, “Just know...you always have me when you’re ready to.”

Bora’s bottom lip trembles with heavy emotion as she loses her breath when looking into her best friend's eyes, who holds so much love in them it’s unbelievable. Bora’s absolutely terrified, she wonders what her own eyes hold? Is it uncertainty they hold that she often feels? Or maybe the same heart-breaking sorrow they held back at the Han river? Or is it something else entirely that they hold? A look reserved for Yoohyeon only? A feeling that only she can make Bora feel.

As much as Bora has spent a good portion of her life sticking her head in the burning sand the moment her feelings attempt to come barreling out--when the truth of things need to speak their piece.

She finds herself In this moment feeling that she doesn't need to ostracize herself away from Yoohyeon--she feels the same urge to open her heart up to Yoohyeon like she had did back at the Han river.

Because something about Yoohyeon has always been inevitable.

Bora lowers her defenses--allows Yoohyeon one step into this war. Solely because it’s her heart that controls her mouth, and not her brain that would keep Yoohyeon away the furthest it could if that meant she’d be protected. 

“You remember when I told you I knew my mother was different the moment I came out the womb?” Bora asks, searching Yoohyeon’s eyes; who only copies hers.

She nods after realizing that Bora is opening up once again--trusting her because she is the only person Bora can,

“Well, she’s always been like how she is ever since I could remember. I think when my father left it really messed her up.” Bora confesses before pausing. Her mind starts to feel hot. She isn’t sure if that’s from the stream from this scorching pressure finally being released or because her mind isn’t so keen on what’s it’s like to put things out in the open.

What it’s like to be completely unguarded.

“I mean you saw it…..She thinks she’s either sick or dying. But she never is...Physically she’s in perfect health.”

Yoohyeon ever-so-slightly nobs, her silent confirmation that she understands. She doesn’t want to say anything, for she’s scared that she’ll ruin the moment; break the spell that has Bora mustering up so much courage to speak her truth, despite it being nothing but painful.

“I know she doesn’t want to seek mental guidance on it at all. Because to her..it isn’t all in her head.” Bora sighs too heavily for Yoohyeon’s liking.

Yoohyeon hates how she understands, but she also doesn’t. She’s never had any experience when it comes to dealing with mental illness in relatives, nor has she ever met someone with, arguably, hypochondria. Because of this she has no words of advice to give Bora, not that she thinks words will help with this; sometimes just listening is the key. But she also doesn’t want to seem like she doesn’t care or that she finds this all too much for her. Because she does care and this isn’t something too much, nor too little.

It’s a matter deserving of her attention, despite the ties she holds to Bora. Yoohyeon wants to help, help in whatever way she can--so long as Bora allows her to. 

“So I do all I can do...I try to protect her the best I can.”

Yoohyeon understands the full extent of Bora’s confession at the Han river now, learns the reasoning behind Bora’s unwaivable determination and drive; for it was created from love. 

Because love is about guardianship.

Because guardianship and ownership are not the same.

“And you do.” Yoohyeon tells her, wields it with all she has. For this she is certain of. “Everyday you do.”

The air from within Bora’s burning lungs leaves her in the form of a shaky exhale.

Yoohyeon rests her head on Bora’s shoulder once more, giving her best friend the privacy to cry without her seeing it. Because she knows that all Bora wants--is to be strong for those she loves. 

The corners of Bora’s eyes sting, but she wills herself not to cry. Instead she clings onto Yoohyeon for dear life, as if she would float away if she’d let Yoohyeon go. Truthfully, Yoohyeon is the only person who can keep her grounded, rooted into this earth that breaks more promises than it does keep them.

But with Yoohyeon she wouldn’t break her promises.

She’d never break Bora’s heart intentionally.

“She’s blessed with a daughter like you.” Yoohyeon speaks up again through the silence that somehow exists with the loud music and the even louder beating of their own hearts. 

Bora laughs, it’s all air; as it is all sad. In her heart she replies back: _If only you knew she’s been running away from me all night. You'd think differently._

But Yoohyeon would never.

Bora rests the side of her face against the top of Yoohyeon’s head as she keeps them swaying to the music.

For now everything feels alright again, and Bora doesn’t worry about if her mother will accept her apology or not. She doesn’t think or even realize by telling Yoohyeon what she has, she’s allowed Yoohyeon to slip past the barriers Bora has built to protect her, into the smoke, allowing Yoohyeon to get lost in the shades of midnight with her.

She doesn’t know either that Yoohyeon carries the inexhaustible candlelit flame that will light the path up to lead them out of there--that will chase away any shade of midnight that threatens to devour them both.

Because once again, Yoohyeon would never abandon her.

She isn’t, nor will she ever be like Bora’s father.

Bora finally understands that, and she knows now, without a shadow of a doubt, that Yoohyeon will only leave if she comes along with her.

_“Have I found you? Flightless bird, brown hair bleeding._

_Or lost you? American mouth. Big bill, stuck going down.”_

***

Bora finds her mother later that night, after the wedding comes to a beautiful close with Miyeon and Shuhua tossing the bouquet of gardenias out from their car’s window, to which one of Bora’s little cousins had caught, before the brides drove away--heading off somewhere into the far distance, into the future that holds so much potential as it does uncertainty.

Yoohyeon had stayed behind, respectfully giving Bora the time she needed alone with her mother.

Yoohyeon decided to chat up the remaining members of Bora’s family, who were already practically smitten by her. While Bora had used that time to search every nook and cranny of the surrounding area for her mother.

It wasn’t too long after when Bora had found her mother leaning up against one of her relative’s cars, hand over her heart as she rubs soothing patterns on her chest, a far away look in her eyes as the corners of her lips curl wistfully. 

For she had been waiting as long as she had been aching.

With heavy feet, Bora moves cautiously towards her, heels dragging in the ground; tilting up the dirt with each slow step she takes. “Mom?” She asks, timid; halting her movements once she’s an arm’s length away from her mother.

Eunseo doesn’t look her way, but she still sees the absence of Bora’s better half. “Where’s Yoohyeon?” She asks, it’s safer to prolong the inevitable of this conversion than it is to jump right in--into murky waters that will surely drown them both.

“She’s talking with everybody still...They won’t leave her alone.” Bora smiles, though it's sad. She does however find a bit of joy in knowing that all her family likes Yoohyeon enough to talk her ear off, despite the differences she carries from them. However, Bora’s family has never been the judgmental sort. Sure, there’s a few bad ones here and there, as there are in everyone’s family. But for the most part they’re decent people.

Eunseo looks back over to the marquee, spots Yoohyeon out of the small gathering outside of it. She can see Yoohyeon’s pretty smile from all the way over here, how the young woman smiles with not only her lips, but her eyes too; for they close in happy crescent moons as she throws her head back, laughing at something one of Eunseo’s relatives had said.

Eunseo smiles genuinely, her heart touched over the sight; over the girl who undeniably has her daughter’s heart in the palm of her caring hands. “She’s a nice girl.” Somewhere in those words is an unsaid: _She’s good for you._

Despite living her life in uncertainty, not knowing what each day will bring, Eunseo has keen eyes, trained to see what is undoubtedly certain.

For she had seen the powerful bond her daughter shares with Yoohyeon. Noticed every time Yoohyeon would say something funny, Bora would slap her arm playfully as she laughed ridiculously, but in the best way possible. She had seen how Yoohyeon would loop her arm through Bora’s when they had sat close together, and Yoohyeon was seeking some form of comfort that only Bora could provide her.

Eunseo had watched from afar when those two had shared that dance--that was full of sincerity, full of comprehension, full of love; a true form that Eunseo hasn’t quite seen before. Yet it existed between her daughter and her best friend. 

Eunseo was certain that Yoohyeon was nothing but good, a perfect candidate that’d receive Bora’s heart when no one else -other than Eunseo herself of course- wanted it.

As much as Bora might think that her mother didn’t really keep an eye on her as much as she did to her, Eunseo has spent half of her life, seeing and knowing that Bora never did have anyone but her while growing up.

Bora never did bring home any friends from school, nor did she hardly ever go out.

She spent most of her days under Eunseo’s feet, and days where her daughter wasn’t running under her feet, nor wasn’t attached to her side--she’d be outside in the backyard shooting fine china or tiny twigs drifting through the little creek located just on the outskirts of the woods that was directly behind their home.

Eunseo knows, she is unshakably certain that Yoohyeon is her daughter’s first friend--as much as she’s also certain that Yoohyeon will forever remain her daughter’s only best friend. 

She finds that type of silver-lining to be so unbelievably special--as she does also with Bora and Yoohyeon’s strong relationship, a true soulmate love that doesn’t need romance in order to be real.

Bora glances over to Yoohyeon, her heart skipping a beat like it always does every time she sees her best friends smiling with so much sweetness in her eyes, happiness well alive from within Yoohyeon's heart. “Yeah she is.” She breathes out softly. 

There’s a heavy pause, matching that of the moment when standing at the end of a diving board. Bora’s heart is in her throat, choking her almost as she is the one to take the first dive in.

“Mom, I want to apologize to you for what I said.”

Eunseo's soothing movements on her heart stop, her lips quivering seconds later. She finally looks into her daughter’s sad eyes; but even then Eunseo still looks so far away, as if she’s looking right through Bora.

Eunseo feels a forceful push from her diving board, sending her falling, crashing into the murky waters below. “It’s fine.” She rushes out, after rising to the surface.

“No it isn’t. What I said was wrong and I’m so sorry.”

Both of them claw and fight against the tide that’s threatening to submerge them back under, but it never feels like it enough, feels as if they’re always just one more wave from being lost to the deep blue once and for all.

But Bora is determined to conquer these waves--she won’t let her mother drown, even if it means she must sacrifice herself in order to make sure Eunseo gets out of these painful waters. 

She closes the small distance between them, wraps her strong arms around her mother’s neck, who instantly goes limp, all the weight, the heartache she has felt tonight releases the moment Bora whispers into her ear,

_“I know I can be hard to deal with….But please know I don’t mean to be.”_

Bora had a million different apologies on the tip of her tongue the whole night, a million different things she could’ve said to try and patch this wound that she ripped open in her mother’s soul. But when faced with the moment--these were the only words her aching throat could form, but that doesn't mean they lack any sincerity, nor any truth.

Because it is nothing but the truth--a truth both women share, for they are reflection of one another, two glistening images that ripple in these tainted waters.

Eunseo brings her weak hand up to rest in the center of her daughter’s shoulder blades, closing her tired eyes and exhaling the heaviest sigh that Bora has ever heard from her.

“It’s okay...you're okay.” She sincerely reassures her daughter.

Bora clings tighter unto her, suppressing a sob. It’s her mother’s heart-rending acceptance of her apology. Although it is simple, it feels like everything to Bora--and she wishes the moment that Eunseo eases into her embrace, wraps her own weakened arms around Bora’s trembling frame, that she too could tell her mother that she herself is okay and that Eunseo would believe her.

***

Yoohyeon light rasps her knuckles on the passenger’s side window, her other hand twirling the smooth stem of gardenia, a flower that came from Miyeon and Shuhua’s wedding bouquet; the little girl that caught the bouquet gave Yoohyeon one of the flowers as a gift, told her before Yoohyeon and Bora left for the night: _Pretty girls should have pretty flowers._

Yoohyeon had felt too special. If she’s being honest, and a little bit smug; it boasted her small ego to learn that Bora’s family adored her. _-Hell-_ Bora’s relatives had liked her well enough that they had pleaded for Bora to bring Yoohyeon around during the holidays.

Bora had been embarrassed over it, her cheeks dusted with the brightest shade of red that Yoohyeon had ever seen her wear. So naturally Bora had swatted their requests away before hightailing them both out of there. Because _-God forbid-_ she stand around and be questioned by her family for the rest of the night if she and Yoohyeon were a couple.

It had been awkward enough when her own mother asked.

“I don’t think I ever told you how cheesy it is that you named your car after an idol you have a crush on.” Yoohyeon laughs, looking over to Bora who glances her way, playfully offended.

“Lee Siyeon is South Korea’s greatest soloist of all time and the hottest woman alive, do you blame me?” Bora says more matter-of-fact than anything else, smiling as she focuses back on the road.

Yoohyeon thinks for a moment, pondering on Bora’s reasonings before deeming them acceptable. “Her song paradise is really good.”

Bora hums excitedly, agreeing without a second thought.

There’s a few beats of peaceful silence, only the faint sounds of the gravel tearing up from the road before crunching underneath the tires of the car can be heard before suddenly a series of raindrops pitter-patters down against the car’s solid frame.

Yoohyeon settles the flower in her lap, watching as the light rain soon begins to pour down heavily. She sighs contentedly before picking out two raindrops to race each other as they slide down her passenger window.

She does this several times, wins some matches, loses much more before she speaks up quietly, “I’m happy that you worked things out with your mom.”

Bora had told Yoohyeon that her apology to her Eunseo went over well enough after leaving the wedding. Yoohyeon was happy as she was relieved, matching Bora’s own feelings on the matter.

But Yoohyeon hadn’t said anything until now, opting to let Bora speak her piece and have it settled down some before chiming in. Although Yoohyeon knows there’s not much left to say, yet there really is; it's just not the right time. One day Bora would open up more, allow Yoohyeon another foot or two into her war. Until then Yoohyeon would patiently wait for the day that she too could protect Bora’s heart--like Bora has done for her so many times already.

Bora stares on straight ahead. “Me too.” She smiles.

After that, the resounding thunder in the distance coexists with the heavy rain and the violet strikes of lightning that flare across the night’s sky from time to time.

Yoohyeon is glad that the heavy storm, broadcasted earlier this week, wasn’t scheduled to take place until later in the night, thus why the weather at the wedding had been damn near perfect.

It’s kind of scary though for Yoohyeon. To think that one minute everything is all fine in the world, unaware of the impending dark storm that brings nothing but eerie clouds and wicked lightning that could scorch the earth’s core if it was powerful enough. It’s one of those things in life that she often notes somewhere in the back of her head, that while there is much beauty and happiness within the world--somewhere out there is something akin to darkness.

But even through the darkness, Yoohyeon finds the peace that it holds, closes her eyes as she listens to Bora flip on the car’s turn signal; it sings in her ears like a soothing lullaby--coaxing her to fall half asleep.

She’s nearly fallen into a peaceful slumber, ready to dream of love--to dream of the day that she too would be clothed in white--to be twirl around by a gentle hand of her lover; by a woman whose dark eyes shine like obsidian behind Yoohyeon’s closed eyelids.

The moment she sees- _feels_ cold delicate lips press into the soft flesh of her throat, her eyelids flicker open; coinciding perfectly with a loud clap of thunder.

Seconds later, the car engine starts to spit and sputter, Yoohyeon slowly straightens up her posture in her seat, looking around, concerned.

 _“Shit.”_ Bora mutters, looking over to the gas gauge to see the car is running close to empty. 

“What’s wrong?”

“We gotta stop and get gas.” Bora sighs, glancing over to see a tiny bit of panic contorting Yoohyeon’s soft features.

“I doubt we’re going to find a SK or a GS anywhere out here.” Yoohyeon says, feeling a bit hopeless as she looks at the scenery passing by through the car’s window.

They’re in a pretty rural area of the South Gyeongsang province. Outside of the more busy areas the South Gyeongsang province is known for its winding roads and it’s vast fields and seemingly endless mountains.

Especially within the Hadong region, commonly known for thriving in rich agriculture. It’s a drastic change from the neon lit city of Busan. But Yoohyeon finds it nice.

Bora on the other hand is slightly irritated that her cousin chose to have a wedding in the middle of practically nowhere. Truthfully she thought the wedding was beautiful, and she wouldn't have changed a thing--but right now she’s just looking for something to pin the blame on. When in terms of taking accountability she should’ve filled up on gas before driving all the way out to Hadong.

“There’s gotta be a local station here somewhere.” Bora replies back, hopeful.

Yoohyeon glances over to her, looking at Bora with an expression of doubt. But she doesn’t speak her worries out loud. Instead she trusts Bora to lead them to where they need to be, and she prays that the both of them won’t end up having to push Siyeon all the way back home.

Bora isn’t too concerned, she’s going to find a gas station somewhere here--no matter the cost.

True to her determination Bora finds a gas station before her car nearly runs dried on gas. Siyeon spits and sputters loudly again, practically begging to be refilled as Bora puts her in park the second after pulling up to one of the two gas pumps outside.

Siyeon is temporarily shielded from the heavy rain due to the canopy that holds the two pumps underneath it.

Yoohyeon looks suspiciously over the rural building, she sees all run down white walls; discolored and stained with patches of yellow. The two glass windows in the front of the station are uneven and smudged, looking like a building straight out of The Hills Have Eyes or something--it’s unnerving to say the least.

She’s seen a lot of rural gas stations before _-hell-_ Texas is practically filled to the brim with them. But there’s something about this particular one that has her stomach turning itself over. Maybe it’s creepy because it’s paired with an eerie storm that shows no signs of letting up. Or maybe she is being paranoid without any real reason to be.

Nonetheless her heart is going eighty miles per minute in her chest, and every time the fluorescent lights seeping through the windows of the building flicker ominously, Yoohyeon honestly feels her heart sink to her gut. 

Bora on the other hand is veering somewhere between unbothered and uneasy--the latter being the stronger feeling of the two. It’s something about the building contrast. Even though the surrounding area is lit up from the white hues from inside the building, and the occasional purple strike of lightning here and there--the forest, that’s surrounding the area in this wall-like background, doesn’t care. It might as well be pitch black, for whatever life lurks in the darkness takes away the security that Bora feels from the surrounding light.

_Monsters hide in the dark after all._

To make matters worse, Bora notices from her driver side window that the pumps are literally older than Siyeon. So that means no can do on swiping her card for gas and hightailing it out of here the minute after filling up.

Which leaves one option--she’s gotta go in that creepy-ass building.

As much as she doesn’t want to go in there, being a woman in a snug dress nonetheless--she has to. It goes without saying too that she’d rather go in get this over with then to chance running out of gas before her and Yoohyeon are even close to the city lines of Busan.

Besides she’s cop--with a gun--that’s right in her glove department. Which she makes sure to grab before opening the driver’s door, much to Yoohyeon’s dismay.

“Hold on cowboy, cover up with your jacket at least. It’s conceal and wield. Not show it and blow it.” Yoohyeon quips while reaching back around her seat to grab Bora’s leather jacket laying in the back seat.

“That’s what she said.” Bora replies, smug. She couldn’t help herself.

Yoohyeon throws the jacket in her face.

Bora sends a glare her way before slipping the jacket on, tucking her Glock 19 into the inside pocket of her jacket.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Yoohyeon asks a second later, clearly worried about Bora’s safety along with her own. 

Bora shakes her head, refusing. ‘I’m good. You can wait in the car.” She’s got this--just a creepy looking gas station, no biggie, really.

Yoohyeon looks slightly relieved. 

“Do you want anything while I’m in there?” Bora asks, her hand resting on the driver’s door frame.

Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes glosses over, seemingly into a puppy-dog look. “Can I please have a coke?” She asks sweetly.

“Yeah.” Bora playfully rolls her eyes--truthfully she’s trying not to swoon over her best friend’s sickening cuteness.

“Thank you!” Yoohyeon chimes happily as Bora shuts the car door.

Bora smiles as she jogs her way over to the entrance of the building.

Her clothes and hair are only a tad bit damp due to the heavy rain by the time she opens one of the double glass doors to the shop, the overhead bell rings the moment she steps a foot inside, alerting her presence for whoever is inside.

The air conditioning unit rattles and hums as it dispenses cold air inside the small shop. It’s pretty cold inside, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a shifty looking gas station Bora supposes. She rubs the sides of her arms in an attempt to settle the goosebumps that have risen up on her chilly skin as she looks around for a moment, noticing that the front counter is missing an employee; but there’s a door off the left hand side of the counter that’s cracked open some, leading to an even smaller room--probably for some privacy for the employees no doubt.

Bora assumes that’s where they are, judging from the faint tune of a song playing on radio in there, she thinks it’s safe to assume just that.

She moves forward, passing various chips and snacks before reaching the coolers. She scans the various rows for a bottle of coke, finding it a second later.

The moment she opens the cooler’s door, grabs the chilled beverage--a light shuffle emits somewhere within the store, sounding close by; like a deer twitching it’s ears Bora listens in.

Suddenly a sound of something falling to the floor rattles, echoing for just a millimeter of a second before the shop goes stagnant again, all expect for the light buzzing of the air conditioner unit.

Bora turns on her heel. “Hello?” She questions the air.

She’s met with yet another rustle on the title floor.

Bora lets the cooler’s door shut by itself as she moves cautiously around the corner of one of the display shelves, slowly peeking her head around the corner, her body following, she sees a stray container of Shin Ramyun laying on the floor.

_So that explains the sound._

She walks over to the Ramen container before bending down to pick it up. Once in her hands--she hears yet another sound of rustling.

Only this time it’s coming from directly behind her.

And somehow she _feels it_ \--a pair of eyes peering into the back of her head.

Bora’s heart instantly sinks, an overwhelming feeling of doom courses through her chilled bloodstream.

Thank God she brought her gun.

A loud clap of thunder coincides perfectly with the moment Bora draws her gun, dropping everything before spinning on her heel, the bottle of coke busting opening; the liquid fizzing up into the air, hissing--along with the terrified cat at the end of the aisle.

The cat’s clear pale green eyes stare into Bora’s widen eyes, reflecting the image of herself--the image of the scared little girl Bora has kept sealed away for as long as she can remember. 

Bora feels as if she’s undergoing rigor mortis, paralyzed by her fear; her lungs burning for a gasp of air--only when the cat darts past her while meowing in distress does Bora inhale greedily, as if she’s never had a breath of air before in her whole entire life.

 _Stupid._ Bora reprimands herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhales deep calming breaths several times. Slowly but surely her heart settles down from within her chest, and the blood within her veins gradually warms back up.

She slowly rises from the floor, tucking her gun back into her jacket’s inside pocket before looking around at the mess she’s made.

Whoever is working tonight’s shift is going to be so fucking pissed at her.

Bora sighs, glancing over to the counter once more--only to see the area remains empty.

Another round of thunder rolls somewhere off in the distance.

Three beats later, a splash of vibrant violet flashes from outside the shop’s window.

Bora is so beyond ready to get the absolute fuck out of here.

As much as she loves Yoohyeon dearly, Bora doesn’t even bother with getting another drink. Instead she makes her way over to the counter again. 

“Hello? Excuse me?!” She calls out with a sense of urgency. “I’m so sorry but I spilled soda all over the aisle out here.” She adds after a pause, hoping that maybe that would do the trick and that she’d be greeted with a grumpy looking employee--any moment now

Bora is met with dead silence not even so much as another rustle to be heard.

 _Where did that cat go anyways?_ She wonders. _It has to belong to the owner or someone working here._

“Look, I don’t know if you're asleep back there or what. But all I need is some gas and I’ll be out of your hair, alright?” Bora sighs, frustrated.

She _waits, and waits, and waits._ Thunder rolls in the distance, for it is its shouting of bad omens and all things wicked to come.

Only when the strike of screaming violet lightning flashes once more, does Bora see something through the crack of that open door.

She swears that her eyes had made it up.

Like a penny dropping, _twirling, twirling, twirling_ before hitting flat on one side--does Bora realize that something isn’t right here.

“Hey!” She calls, moving hastily towards the end of the counter.

A clap of thunder roars-- _screams_ , and right before Bora rounds the end of the counter-

Yoohyeon comes barreling through the front door--the cat slipping past her, not even so much as looking Yoohyeon’s way, terrified as it flees off somewhere deep into the woods.

Bora nearly jumps halfway off the ground at the sound of the door’s bell ringing. She quickly looks Yoohyeon’s way, confusion contorting her features. “Yoohyeon? I thought I told you to wait in the car?” She asks, no trace of any annoyance from within her tone. She’s genuinely surprised to see Yoohyeon, who is rounding the counter to meet up with her.

“You were taking too long...and I got worried.” Yoohyeon informs sheepishly before quickly following up with, “Are you okay? You look pale.” Yoohyeon closes the small gap between them before resting her hand on Bora’s shoulder.

Bora’s mouth opens and closes, she looks over to the door just a few steps away from them.

Her stomach turns--she feels dread, complete and utter dread for what lies behind that door.

Yoohyeon slowly follows Bora’s line of sight. Somehow she understands Bora’s reply, despite no words being spoken yet.

Yoohyeon looks to her best friend again, her heart sinking to the lowest pit in her gut. “W-where’s the e-employee?” She questions, her tone shaky and uneven; just barely above a whisper.

Bora finally looks her way, wearing an expression that Yoohyeon has never seen upon her face before.

A look of pure fear.

“Whatever happens…..It’s going to be okay.” Bora alludes, reassures even.

But neither of them feel anything remotely close to comfort.

But Yoohyeon still nods her head firmly, choosing to believe Bora’s words--knowing that no matter what Bora would fight off the darkest of clouds--protect her from the strongest of evil. 

Bora slowly leads, and Yoohyeon follows.

Their hearts beating painfully from within the middle of their tight throats. The rhythm from which they beat is almost as loud as the thunder rolling outside, heading their way.

Along with the first bite of knowledge from a forbidden fruit. 

The first taste of what good and evil truly is.

Bora's shaky hand rises from her side, Yoohyeon grabs her other hand; clenches onto it for dear life as Bora pushes the door open.

  
  


Yoohyeon’s blood curdling scream is all Bora can hear before all of the blood drains from her own ears, becoming replaced by white noise as she stares lifelessly at the sight before her.

  
  


A man soaked in his own blood--but drained of it all, empty from within his hollow veins.

*** 

Deep within the forest of South Gyeongsang province, Handong runs.

The movements of her feet are precise as they’re light, but yet when she sprints in between the obstacles that are the crooked trees, her moments emit a sound that is akin to the crack of a long whip, shaking the trees once still leaves violently, causing various wild birds to awake from their sleeping state before they flee from their nests and cry out in distress.

For she is hunting, and they know it.

But what she hunts for is not their blood, nor those of the wild animals that scatter throughout the forest.

She hunts for clues, signs; any indication of where Sanghoon might be hiding. Because unlike Minji, she knows that the man is aware of his failures, aware that Minji has no more patience for him.

For he is painfully aware of what will happen to him should he be found.

After years of dealing with his unruly appetite which risks their entire existence to be exposed, Minji no longer cares for him--now she despises all that he is, all that he has ever been.

A waste of space, a waste of time, a waste of a man who could have protected her all those years ago but chose not to for reasons Minji does not comprehend--although soon she will.

Handong, however, holds no deep roots to him, no bonds, no adoration. She simply lived under the same roof as him, serving Minji also because she swore fealty to her many, many years ago.

If her option had been asked, she would have spoken up about disposing him sooner.

However, Minji always did cling to her blinding attachments. She sought recognition in things, people that no longer hold an image of what they once were.

She liked to torture herself by burning these painful memories from the long forgotten past into her scorched heart. She kept those recollections so she’d forever remember how life has wronged her--To fuel her undying hatred.

Handong has never seen such strong emotion bloom with life inside of a woman who does not live.

If she didn’t smile, find the humor hidden unfathomably deep in it; she too would be terrified of Minji, terrified by what her unyielding suffering can harm. 

But like always, Handong smiles and refuses to give up the hunt, to allow fleeting prey to escape from her sharpened claws. Hunting is her skill, her favorite pastime--the only thing that makes her feel sort of alive again.

She wouldn’t allow herself to lose that feeling, nor would she give up the hunt until her prey was found.

As cold night’s air breezes through her long blonde hair, and the heavy rain from the ongoing thunderstorm pours down on her, slides across her marble skin as her feet kick up dirt and mud as she runs at an unseeable speed; she hears a piercing scream, ripping through the veil of the misty woods, echoing pass the aged dark bark of the trees, that remind Handong of the elders faces she had tore apart on the night of her and Minji’s changing.

A loud clap of thunder follows after, and like a hunter would, Handong moves in the direction of the scream, following the smell of iron that the rain had sought to wash away.

Handong only stops following the tracks--her senses, after picking up slight movement behind one of the trees from out of the corner of her eye.

She smiles friendly as she slowly approaches the small soaking wet tabby cat, whose light grey fur tries to stand up on it’s back as it hisses relentlessly at her, terrified--as if it knows what she is.

“Hi, kitty.” Handong purrs once she’s a foot away from it.

The cat hisses sharply as it swats at her, in an futile attempt to scare her off.

Handong lowly chuckles. She admires its bravery, and she finds herself already liking the small cat in general.

She cautiously lowers herself to ground, as to not scare the cat off, before locking her dark eyes with the cat's clear pale green eyes. 

Only then does the cat calm down.

Only then does Handong see all in which the cat has witnessed. She sees the cat’s owner dying, ripped apart at the throat by Sanghoon as he feasts on the unfortunate man’s blood. She sees Sanghoon drain the man of all his blood before fleeing.

She sees a woman clothed in a light pink dress, entering the store, retrieving what she needs before she notices that something is amok.

The last thing that Handong sees is the woman finding the cat before the cat hides for a short period of time before it runs out of the store and ends up where it’s at now.

It’s Handong’s first clue as to where Sanghoon is. She knows that she is close to finding him. Because it’s clear to her that Sanghoon is keeping close to the manor now.

He was running on borrowed time, running from Handong; who would catch him very soon.

Handong smiles as the cat gracefully moves her way, finding comfort in her new owner.

Once in her arms Handong inspects the little gold plated tags around the cat’s collar. “Nannan? What a pretty name.” She notes as she pets the top of the cat’s head, to which Nannan pushes into her touch.

Not only would Handong be bringing good news back to Minji, but also a new companion--one who'd replace the future absence of Sanghoon--permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Bora and Yoohyeon we're also slowly finding things that are evil.
> 
> Ah, Well? X) I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. This chapter is one of my faves that was planned in my outline of this story! So I hope you liked it. 
> 
> Like always leave me some comments if you please. I like reading your guys favorite parts, and other things y'all have to say! Even if it's just keyboard smashing! Until next time, please take care, and know you're loved. Xoxo


	3. We keep our feelings in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi once again! I hope everyone is doing alright! As always thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. I even appreciate the readers who silently enjoy this humble little fic. You guys are amazing. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Death is a wondrous thing.

But not in a manner that’s awe inspiring or something to marvel at. It's a feeling of understanding, yet knowing nothing. People live and people die, that’s the normal stasis of life; the basics in which most comprehend.

However, there's always been this unexplainable teeter tottering effect that Joohyun has yet to understand.

On one end there’s life and the moments leading to death, each rise and fall mirrors that of one's life, the ups and the downs; until finally that last spring off the ground is inevitably the last, crashing into the dirt after being ascended. No more weight left to bear, yet still weighted down. Then on the other end there is death, raised in the air, the final triumph of achievements that will be lost within time; the last ending that will forever remain dormant.

But in the middle there is a foundation holding it all together, waiting for the next rise and the final fall. Maybe that’s the people left over? Maybe it’s the earth, the universe, or whatever is rooted into this tainted dirt in which people still call home.

There’s an expectancy to living as there is to dying. Such things will forever be irreparable, there’s no changing or fixing how life will undoubtedly always be.

At a young age Joohyun was taught that life blooms in many colors, an endless palette in which fate paints the blossoming of newborn children, leaves a stroke that is special to each child. But with such beauty, such preordained matters comes at a cost. For Joohyun also learned that with every flower planted there will be a day in which they must wilt.

To live with such shades, only to die colorless; to wilt in a hue that will always be somewhere in the in-between.

The in-between of that teeter totter that Joohyun doesn’t understand. Because once again there is life and there is death. Two components that cannot exist without the other, two things that seemingly belong together; work together, despite their drastic differences. Yet there is something that exists between them, a gap that forces them to remain apart.

The in-between of what happens before a person lives and what happens after they die?

This screaming feeling of limbo that Joohyun feels after laying her desensitized eyes upon another poor victim of life’s plucking of it’s once beloved flowers.

After thirteen years of being in this line of work, thirty-one years of carrying a heart that's harder than steel, Joohyun has come to terms with what this life will show her--as to what people, or in this case monsters are capable of.

But never in all her experience in law enforcement, her vague understanding of death, and her deepest darkest nightmares would she ever know she’d witness the sight she sees now.

A man lying sideways in a small pool of his own blood, his bloodshot eyes rolled upwards in a manner that’s unnerving, an expression that looks akin to possession; paralyzed in his last moments from fear, and unforgettable pain. His skin bleached with death, dipped in white that only the grave obtains. The only color of vitality to him is that of his own blood, stained around his neck; smeared in this damning shade of crimson.

Joohyun has seen her fair share of bodies here and there, but this one--this one is fashioned in a way that horror films shrive to achieve this level of gore.

The right side of the man’s neck is ripped open, his flesh tore in several stripes. The meaty flesh is visible, bubbling in pus whose color is a deep blood orange while inside of lacerations the flesh appears to be stained in black, sort of like ink festering inside.

The skin that stills remains intact on the man’s neck is bruised, in angry colors of red, purples, and blues.

It reminds Joohyun of the after effects that poisonous snake bites cause. Just as much as the horrid scene in front of her looks somewhere along the lines of a wild animal attack. If Joohyun wanted to be reasonable she’d say that’s what they’re dealing with here. But that’s highly unlikely as it is purely impossible.

Taking the location into matters, even the wild fauna living within the South Gyeongsang province wouldn’t enter a gas station for food _-hell-_ even on the off chance that a wild animal would ever muster up the courage to enter into a place tamed by men it’s not likely they’d attack rather than scavenging on the various bulk foods in here. So it’s safe to rule that theory out.

Taking the condition of the body into matters, without the coroner’s ruling on the state of it. It’s clear evidence that neither an animal, nor snake caused this. Joohyun isn’t by any means a doctor or well versed into the medical examination of things, but she can clearly see broken bones just as anyone else can when they’re disturbingly apparent.

The man’s arms are contorted and twisted in a way that makes Joohyun’s insides scream in discomfort. Two or three fingers of the man’s fingers are split apart like wood cracked down the center, Joohyun scrunches her face up in disgust, her body feeling squeamish at the sight. It’s almost like the man tried to fight back against whoever his attacker was. But by doing so not only did he meet a horrible demise, but seemingly he endured inhumane suffering in his final moments.

That analysis makes Joohyun sick to her stomach, anger rising from her sickness before going straight to her head like steam from a boiling kettle.

 _Screaming. Screaming. Screaming._

What was once someone at one point in time, a man who contributed to society and followed his own path in life, was now a shattered body, reduced to broken bones and bloody debris.

Joohyun, with every fiber of her being, is going to find the monster who did this.

What Joohyun doesn’t know is that she, nor anyone else will find the true culprit; he’ll be long dead very shortly.

What she doesn’t know either is that this is just the first ungodly occurrence, and that neither she, nor her assistant chief will be the two who find the sowers of these fruits which grow in the garden that Joohyun and everyone else call home.

Not when Yoohyeon and Bora are the two predestined to fight this great evil battle.

Joohyun looks over her shoulder, looking out from the uneven window to see Bora and Yoohyeon sitting down on the pavement’s ledge to the store. The heavy rain is still pouring down outside, but Bora shields their bodies with a umbrella, given to her by one of her fellow officers.

Joohyun watches on, her heart squeezing painfully the moment that Bora wraps her arm around Yoohyeon’s weakened shoulders, in which the girl eases into Bora’s side, watching ahead without interest as her fellow officers fill up Siyeon with a gasoline canister.

Joohyun’s features soften, almost dropping into an expression that is heart-rending, a type of look a person wears when they hear of bad news; a look Joohyun wears because she knows her two best rookie officers are forever changed by this unfortunate event.

A series of white flashes from Joohyun’s assistant chief’s camera causes the commissioner to revert her attention back over to the body, back over to Seungwan; who is finishing up with the last set of crime scene photos they’ll need before the coroner gives his insight on what they’re dealing with here before taking the body to the morgue for further examination. 

“I’m not a criminalist but my photography skills have improved after taking nearly a hundred photos in Barcelona, Sohee will be proud of these.” Seungwan says, tapping the side of her digital SLR camera as she moves away from the crime scene, joining up at Joohyun’s side.

_God, what a sight for sore eyes she is._

Joohyun can’t think of a better time for Seungwan to come back home to. A little: _Welcome back, here’s a murder that needs solving asap._ Tragedy aside, she’s relieved to have her favorite partner in crime back at her side. 

After months of being away, her first night back in South Korea, Seungwan still had picked up her phone and dropped everything when Joohyun needed her to.

Joohyun couldn’t ask for a better assistant chief . Nor would she ever find a truer friend than Seungwan. 

“I’m sure she will.” Joohyun comments, the corners of her lips twitching upwards once Seungwan smiles sheepishly her way, she had appreciated the reassurance.

There’s a slight pause, allowing just enough time for the two women to once again take in the sight before them.

Seungwan sighs, too heavy for someone who had spent the few months away on a soul seeking journey in the mystical city of Barcelona. “I left my problems back in Spain. Only to return to find new ones in South Korea...I’d say it’s funny how that works if the problem wasn’t-” She stops, trying to find the right words; only to learn that there never is the perfect wording in these matters, “You know…” She gestures to the body in front of them before her eyes drop to the floor.

Joohyun nods absentmindedly. She thinks about how in life people never really get away from their problems, sometimes even trouble. She remembers once in her youth that before her family moved to where they stay now in Ulsan, they used to live among the busy streets of downtown Daegu; staying in an apartment complex with neighbors who were less than ideal. Joohyun remembers how happy she and her mother were after moving away from Daegu in Joohyun’s teenage years after her father sought work in Ulsan. It was like their ticket to finally not have to deal with those people any longer. However, they were met with worse neighbors than before when they arrived at their new home.

It’s one of those things that Joohyun has often thought of as a lesson yet to be learned, almost as if fate is teaching it’s insufferable courses, not letting off until that moment of acceptance.

Life is undeniably strange like that, and maybe thinking that way is a bit stranger. But Joohyun has always been the type of person who needs answers, she refuses to live her life as: _It is what it is._

(However, there'll always be one question she’d never know the answer to, nor was she ever brave enough to ask.)

So if she finds some sort of clarity in meanings that are philosophical--than so be it. It’s an answer and that’s all she needs for now.

“Did you find what you were looking for in Barcelona?” Joohyun asks softly, a certain shyness laced within her usually steely tone. Seungwan had always carried the tool that can pierce through the strongest of steel, pierce through Joohyun’s frigid heart, revealing that underneath all that ice and steel is a heart that holds the warmth of the brightest bonfires, a heart that loves strongly but quietly; carried by a woman who’s reserved in her nature--but longs to openly show her true side to the woman she has been in love for a very long time.

Seungwan, who is subconsciously twirling her beautiful wedding ring with the smooth pad of her thumb. “You know how your sister is…” She hesitates, staring down at her ring, lost in thought.

Joohyun forces a smile.

“Sooyoung told me that I’d find a piece of myself there somewhere. But I don’t think I did….” Seungwan tells her quietly, somewhat sad, somewhat still lost. Then she looks up, locking eyes with Joohyun, wearing an expression on her face that says so much without even uttering a single word.

Seungwan’s dark eyes sparkle, and shine with uncertainty that looks beautiful to Joohyun’s aching eyes. 

Joohyun holds her breath, refusing to allow her heart to give Seungwan that much more. Not when that girl already has every-single-piece of her, held within her unknowing hands. 

“I don’t think I really believe that these places or things hold a part of ourselves that we have yet to find….like they hold the key to make us whole again or something.” Seungwan admits, pausing to skim the tip of her tongue over her dry lips, “I think that’s something people tell us so we’ll go spend our money, or so we’ll go out and enjoy life….Honestly, I think that in order to find ourselves we have to start from within...then the rest follows.”

Joohyun’s heart ticks, like the arm of a clock; counting down to the final moment--the loud ring, the moment in which she realizes that Seungwan has grown up so much since their time spent together at KNPU-- _and their time spent apart._

“It sounds like you did find something.” She breathes out.

Seungwan blinks, taken back before realizing to herself that maybe Joohyun is right, maybe she did find something after all.

But not the unrequited love that Joohyun holds for her, she’ll never find that.

“Yeah...maybe I did.”

The clock strikes, and Joohyun feels herself dying a slow death, a death that will one day be from heartbreak.

Seungwan laughs a second later, it’s a fond laugh; one that she often emits when either before or after speaking of her wife-Joohyun has always noticed.

“It was a nice vacation for us though. I appreciate you going up against the board to allow me the time off.” 

“It was no problem.” Joohyun reassures as she forces down the words that always seem to follow: _I’d do anything for you._ Instead she replaces them with something safer, something painfully untelling, “You also left Barcelona with new hair too.” She smiles fondly, watching as Seungwan’s hand immediately goes to play with the ends of her freshly dyed snow blonde hair, chopped at a length that touches her shoulders. 

A drastic change from her long brunette hair that Joohyun has always seen her keep ever since she has known Seungwan.

It looks perfect on her.

“Why the change?” Joohyun adds, smiling.

“What happens in Barcelona stays in Barcelona.” Seungwan alludes playfully while wiggling her eyebrows, prompting Joohyun to scoff; but it’s in good nature. 

The assistant chief laughs, to which Joohyun does too. The moment that follows is heavy, a tense realization of where they’re standing at right now. It’s almost scary to think that they’re near desensitized to death, this line of work assures just that. But there’s always little moments like this that slip through the cracks of hardened layers they have formed around themselves, and awaken their hearts that're scared of the unknown.

_The in-between._

The coroner comes pushing through the little room a minute later, ready to start his process. Joohyun clears her throat after breaking eye contact with Seungwan. She nods her head over her shoulder to gesture for the blonde to follow her out of the room, to which she does.

Once outside the room, Seungwan fiddles with the camera while Joohyun watches a few of her officers puke up their guts outside.

“I wonder how they’re holding up?” Seungwan asks.

A sarcastic remark is on the tip of Joohyun’s sharp tongue regrading the puking men outside, but when she turns to Seungwan and sees that her assistant chief’s eyes aren’t upon the men outside but instead landing on Bora and Yoohyeon, the remark dies on her tongue.

Joohyun softens. “This is their first time encountering a body...The first time is always the worst.”

Joohyun remembers the first time she was called into a scene of a crime. It was years ago, way before she was even so much as considered to become chief of police. The victim was a woman in her early twenties, lost to a case of domestic violence. Joohyun will never forget how the woman’s eyes were swollen shut, the sockets around her eyes covered in awful shades that Joohyun has longed to forget, but never can she. Neither can she forget the feeling of her own life shattering apart in front of her--there has always been this indescribable feeling when seeing a body. It’s a feeling that is overwhelming, but fleeting in the moment because of the adrenaline that kicks in; a flight or fight reaction due to the uncertainty around death.

No one wants to die, and Joohyun, among others, certainly do not wish to see death.

She wishes that things could’ve been different, that Bora and Yoohyeon didn’t see what they did.

However, this was inevitable. In more ways beyond just their line of work, but Joohyun--Joohyun doesn’t know that.

Seungwan sighs, sad. “Yeah….Bora seems to be holding up okay. But Yoohyeon seems pretty shaken up.” She shakes her head before adding, “What a shitty way to finally meet her.” 

It’s true. Seungwan has heard so much praise about Yoohyeon from Joohyun, almost as much as she has also heard about Bora lassoing the girl into her shenanigans. Seungwan is well aware of Bora’s unconventional methods to getting the job done, having worked with the woman since her own arrival at the station in Busan, long before Joohyun’s rule over it. But ever since the arrival of Kim Yoohyeon, Bora -according to Joohyun- has been almost pleasant to work with. Sure, she still works under the method of a mad woman, getting herself and Yoohyeon into several high speed chases while on traffic control is evidence to that. But -once again, according to Joohyun- Bora actually seems to enjoy coming into work now. For the most part she’s all smiles and sunshine. Which is kind of terrifying to Seungwan to learn that as much as it is amazing that there was someone out there who is able to bring out the best side of Bora- _-that Yoohyeon is able to bring that joy to Bora._

And in Seungwan’s book that makes Yoohyeon an extraordinary woman. 

Sure, Yoohyeon has an over the top education, a determined drive that matches Bora’s own, and the overall credentials of being a good officer those alone makes her exceptional. But what really solidifies her as someone that Busan really needs in these dark times, someone who Seungwan admires already, despite only having a very brief, highly awkward introduction, is that Yoohyeon, without a doubt, seems like a very kind-hearted girl.

Joohyun had said to Seungwan one late night, weeks ago over the phone: “ _She’s got a heart of gold, Seungwan.”_

That was almost enough itself for Seungwan to know of the girl’s character. Because Joohyun simply doesn’t say that about anyone.

And then there’s that old saying, a biblical one: “ _You’ll know them by the fruits they bear.”_

Yoohyeon’s fruits that she carries within her golden heart, all of her actions spoken by others is a testament to that old saying.

“She was pretty upset when she called me….I’ve never heard her sound so…” Joohyun goes silent, getting lost in her own reverie as she remembers how panicked, shocked, and utterly terrified Yoohyeon had sounded over the phone. It’s yet another thing Joohyun will never forget. 

There’s a heavy pause.

The only sounds that keep the building somewhat lively is that of the low buzzing of the air conditioner unit and the rapid pitter-patter of the heavy rain colliding against the roof of the station.

Seungwan shifts closer to Joohyun before sighing. “I’m glad that they have each other.” She admits, wistfully.

Suddenly out of breath, Joohyun inhales, “Me too.” she confesses before exhaling a shaky, “I-I’m glad you’re back.” She doesn’t add: _I’m glad that I have you._ Because it sounds like it will reveal too much.

Seungwan looks at her, with love shining from behind her beautiful eyes. But not the kind of love that Joohyun looks to her with, tries to hide behind her own dark eyes that look tired from seeing all the horror she’s seen today, exhausted from seeing that delectable diamond shining back at her, telling her with each shine that radiates off of it: _You lost your opportunity years ago._

“Despite the circumstances of tonight. I’m glad to be back.” Seungwan smiles, “Even though that means I have to deal with your grumpy-ass everyday now.” She knocks their shoulders together, hoping to lighten the mood and to see her dearest friend, her _sister-in-law_ smile once again.

Joohyun does, it’s genuine but also resigned.

The clock strikes again, and Joohyun knows this is all they’ll ever be.

Two partners, only in the field of crime, two friends brushing shoulders and smiling in a way that’s aching; two former young girls who loved each other very much, but one was scared and the other wasn’t. So one let go in order for the other to be free, only to grab on later when the other one had already spread her wings and found love in a nest, in the arms of another-- _who wasn’t supposed to be._

Joohyun doesn’t let life’s implications slip pass her, to let this lesson go over her head. For in this recollection, Joohyun remembers a time where she and Seungwan had gone their separate ways after graduating from KNPU. Years spent apart, but yet held together through phone calls and hand written letters that Joohyun still keeps in the top drawer of her dresser. Only to be reunited by fate’s circumstances, a joining through love--only to be torn apart by it.

Only for fate and it's insufferable lesson to bring them back again--reunite them in Busan.

Seungwan is still by her side, life’s beautiful memo that tells Joohyun every day: _You need to accept._

But Joohyun isn’t ready, nor does she think she’ll ever be.

***

Despite not even so much as sipping a teaspoon of alcohol tonight, Yoohyeon feels entirely sober. As the heavy rain collides against the umbrella shielding her and Bora, while Yoohyeon rests her heavy head on her best friend’s tired shoulder; she thinks about how witnessing death is a very sobering experience. 

Death is a common thing in life, Yoohyeon knows of it. For she vaguely remembers the time her father’s mother had passed away due to breast cancer. It was years ago, back when Yoohyeon was just a little girl. But she still sort of remembers what she had felt upon seeing her grandmother laying perfectly still in her white open casket, a sort of emptiness as if she too was gone from this world. She remembers that with her grandmother’s death there was no horror, her grandmother had looked like she was just sleeping; and Yoohyeon swore that even though she was looking directly at her grandmother, it still had looked as if she could see her moving.

Maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her, or maybe it was that childish hope that Yoohyeon had always carried around that had her believing that her grandmother was just stirring in her eternal sleep.

But that was long ago, and Yoohyeon is not so sure if she remembers the event correctly or not. But she can’t help but to feel that there is a room somewhere in her psyche that those images and feelings are protected or even hidden in. Yes, she can find that door if she really needs to, but mostly she chooses not to.

She doesn’t want to relive that emptiness again, feel that utter stillness that reminds her of the body she and Bora had stumbled upon.

The body that is only a few feet away, still inside the small room of the building; the body that is a complete bloody ruined shell of who that man once was.

That’s what disturbs her. The realization that when the soul leaves, the body is truly nothing more than the house it had lived in. Whatever people want to call it, whatever makes a person who they are is gone.

Yoohyeon touches her cross necklace, squeezing her eyes shut only to see the horrid images of that poor man’s body flash into her mind.

 _Contorted, broken, bloody_ \--a painting that only demons could have possibly drawn up.

She’s seen over a hundred different crime scene photos during her time spent at KNPU, seen blood and gore in ways a person should never have to; all for the sake of learning, to gain the knowledge that most often never want to know. 

But this-- _the real deal,_ nothing could’ve prepared her for it.

Not when this man’s death was something unforeseeable, his body left in a state that Yoohyeon has never even seen in her most gut-wrenching nightmares.

Even as strokes of ungodly crimson flash relentlessly behind Yoohyeon’s closed eyelids, she forces her eyes to remain shut, to keep the burning tears within her scarred eyes. 

“It’s going to be alright.” Bora whispers into Yoohyeon’s ears, pulling her impossibly close; knowing just by how Yoohyeon is breathing, shaky and quickened, that she is on the verge of tears yet again.

Bora has spent the last twenty minutes consoling her, trying to somehow talk the girl down right after Yoohyeon had called Joohyun, after Bora had urged the brunette out of that room, to protect what was left of Yoohyeon’s innocence, naivety even.

Yoohyeon’s broken sobs had been more earth shattering than the loud thunder that still is rolling up in the distance, though it sounds seemingly closer than before. 

Bora had said those words to Yoohyeon with a certainty that somewhere in the future as time goes on, what they had witnessed will lessen in pain to think about. They say time heals all wounds--yet these deep ugly scars will forever remain engraved into a fissure of their changed hearts.

Bora knows this for certain the moment that Yoohyeon ever-so-slowly eases back from her, only to look her in the eyes, unshed tears glassing over Yoohyeon’s own usually warm brown eyes. The way that Yoohyeon is looking at her, all too knowing, all too unsure, saying the words, that no doubt could not leave her burning throat to begin with: _We’re changed now, you and me. I don’t know what lies ahead…..truthfully I’m scared of finding out. But we have too, don’t we?_

The air from within Bora’s constricting lungs leaves her in the form of a shaky exhale. All she can do is wrap Yoohyeon into a much needed hug, and hope that it counts for something.

Of course to Yoohyeon it does. She doesn’t hesitate to fling her arms around Bora’s neck before burying her tear-stained face into her best friend’s neck, smelling that same potent vanilla perfume that now will forever be a scent that belongs to Bora and Bora only.

Yoohyeon falls apart in Bora’s unfathomably strong arms once again, sobbing uncontrollably while her thoughts betray her, reminding her constantly of the bloody mess inside; reminding her that death and it’s harbingers of evil are always lurking somewhere by.

As Bora holds Yoohyeon’s trembling form, she thinks about her own experiences with death. She’s lost numerous family members throughout the years, despite not being close to some of them it still had felt like a blow to her gut to lose them; and while it's a horrible experience to have to undergo, the loss of a human life-- _l_ _ife goes on._ She had to gather herself each time and move forward with life because what other choice did she have?

And now with this--Bora refuses to do anything else but to gather herself up once again, but this time use all that shock, pain, and anger that she is currently feeling, and channel those raw emotions into finding the bastard that did this.

She has too much on the line to lose. She has to protect her mother, keep her safe from undoubtedly a murder that’s roaming in the darkest corners that monsters can hide in; and now she has Yoohyeon--another person she holds dear to her heart, someone she also needs to keep safe, grounded; rooted into this tainted soil so that they both don’t lose themselves.

Bora won’t lose Yoohyeon to the in-between.

And Yoohyeon...Yoohyeon won’t allow Bora to head off into the midnight smoke all by herself ever again. 

.

Yoohyeon is wrapping herself tightly into Bora’s jacket, that Bora had draped over her at some point while she was crying, by the time one of her fellow officers stops over to where she and Bora are still sitting.

He informs Bora that Siyeon is ready to go whenever they’re ready.

Yoohyeon sighs in relief, she can hardly wait to get home, away from this tainted gas station. She hopes that maybe she can leave all the horror she has witnessed here behind, however she knows that’s just wishful thinking at this point.

Bora on the other hand isn’t ready to leave, not until she speaks with Joohyun.

Both Bora and Yoohyeon stand up at the same time, Bora rests her hand on Yoohyeon’s shoulder, meeting Yoohyeon’s glassy eyes with a soft expression.

“You go wait in the car, I’ll be right there shortly. Until then you can turn on the radio and listen to whatever station you like.” Bora tells her, hoping that maybe that will make Yoohyeon smile.

She does, but she still looks so sad.

“You never let anyone fool around with Siyeon.” Yoohyeon counters, surprised.

“You’re the only expectation.”

Yoohyeon smiles again, it’s a bit happier this time. She feels honored that Bora adores her enough that she’s willingly giving her permission to bother the radio. It’s a simple thing to most, but to Yoohyeon it’s another positive step forward for their unshakable friendship.

Now she’s gotta work on convincing Bora to let her drive Siyeon just once before she dies.

Without another word Yoohyeon slightly bows her head, her silent: _Thank you,_ to Bora before she heads into the direction of the car; while Bora turns on her heel to head in the direction of Joohyun.

.

Bora learns very quickly from just her extremely short journey of entering the gas station, that keeping her intentions hidden from Yoohyeon is pretty shitty feeling, even if it is just for a short period of time; literally just until she convinces their commissioner to let them in on the case.

She didn’t want to talk about this idea of hers to Yoohyeon just yet, not after everything that has transpired today; plus she didn’t really think bringing the topic up to Yoohyeon right after she had settled down a bit was a good idea. Especially considering the girl wasn’t taking this situation in the best way possible, not that anyone would blame her or anything. Bora thinks about how she too would be feeling pretty shaken up if it wasn’t for this burning determined to figure out what the actual hell had happened here.

She’s never seen such a scene like that before, not even back in her training at KNPU. This crime was on a whole new level of fucked up. South Korea isn’t really home to _‘murders’_ of that nature. Yeah, there have always been crimes and unfortunately with crime sometimes there’s people who get caught in the crossfires, and then there's some who tragically are sought out to be killed.

It’s a horrible thing, but unfortunately life is like that all around the globe.

But once again, this particular crime was no ordinary murder; and maybe Bora is jumping the gun by assuming that’s what went down. The coroner hasn’t even given his official ruling if what they're dealing with is a homicide or not. But even without an official ruling it’s pretty hard not to come up with that conclusion after seeing a man lying down in his own pool of blood, and not to mention that almost half the side of his neck is missing a few chunks of flesh there.

It’s truly fucked up to say the very least. 

Bora opens up one of the doors to the shop, the overhead bell chimes as she steps inside; prompting Seungwan to look her way while Joohyun has yet to fully take notice of Bora’s presence, too busy looking over Seungwan’s photos. 

Although the assistant chief is surprised to see Bora she still musters up a smile before greeting her, “Hey.” Her tone comes out sounding a bit confused, maybe even a bit too soft, a hint of concern in there somewhere. 

Bora appreciates her favorite superior’s concern for her well being despite usually disliking the feeling she receives when learning that there’s people out there who feel sorry for her.

It’s one of those things that Bora doesn’t want people to feel for her. She can’t stand the thought of people viewing her as this fragile woman, or putting their actual genuine energy into her when there’s other people out there who are dealing with way worse.

And if she’s being honest, she thinks that most of the time people act all concerned and upset over the struggles of others just to save some face.

It’s kind of like that saying: _“The people who say they care are the ones who don’t. They only do when it’s convenient for them.”_

Bora supposes there’s some truth to that.

Most people say they care, but it means nothing until they prove it.

But with Seungwan it’s different. Her _‘pity’_ is genuine, and she doesn’t come across as one of those people who do that annoying high-pitched if not whiny, _“I’m so sorry.”_ before completely dropping the fake sad eyes and moving on, as if the sorrows of others is a fleeting thing.

Bora has worked with her long enough to see that Seungwan’s actions speak louder than her words, despite them being nothing if not sincere. 

She’s someone who leads by example, and rules with a softened tone and a heart that’s always been open to change. Despite how high she is on the totem pole, Seungwan still lowers herself down to be leveled with others, never forgetting to stay humble.

Honestly it’s the little things too that really solidify Seungwan’s character.

She always makes sure to greet every single person that is working when she’s on shift at the station, taking time out of her duties to stop and make sure everyone is doing okay.

It’s sweet, if not entirely too nice of her.

Plus that woman makes some mean chocolate chip cookies.

Anyone who is willing to make chocolate chip cookies for their co-workers _-of all people-_ is a good person in Bora’s book.

Plus Seungwan has silently had her back for the longest time now, even going as far to go head to head with Joohyun to lessen some of the commissioner’s punishments when Bora had been out of line.

But since she has been gone for the last several months, Bora unfortunately had to deal with Joohyun’s fury, and her godawful punishments, in forms of running until Bora no longer could.

Regardless, it’s nice that Seungwan is finally back. However, Bora wishes that Seungwan's welcome back party was an actual party and not, well-- _this._

Bora sends a quick nod her way, acknowledging the woman’s greeting before she stops in front of the counter.

Joohyun finally looks up at her after hearing Seungwan address the officer, looking more surprised than what Seungwan had been upon seeing her. “Bora?” she questions, her tone low and unsure. She looks to her officer with furrowed brows and dark eyes that seemingly ask: _What are you still doing here?_

But before she can ask the words out loud Bora is quick to demand, “Let me in on the case.” Straight to the point.

Joohyun blinks owlishly. “You can’t be serious.” She scoffs, purely out of disbelief. But had she seen the fire burning behind Bora’s eyes the moment she walked in, Joohyun might have thought differently.

“I am. I want in, and Yoohyeon is bound to follow.” Bora tells her firmly. Despite Yoohyeon still being unaware of Bora’s plans, Bora had said her words with certainty. 

Because wherever she goes Yoohyeon always follows, like the girl is her other shadow; bound to her by forces Bora can’t really explain other than simply chalking it up to their friendship.

They simply hold this unwaverable trust in one another, and after everything that has happened tonight - Yoohyeon learning about Eunseo - The body at the gas station - there’s no doubt in Bora’s mind that even if she wanted to keep Yoohyeon in the dark that girl would still find a way to come running through with a light.

Yoohyeon still, even through her own fears, would find a way to fight this _thing_ alongside Bora--as long as it meant Bora didn’t have to go through this alone. 

When Joohyun looks into Bora’s fiery eyes she somehow realizes that too. That these two women despite their fears are willing to step into the line of fire if it means protecting others.

It’s admirable for her to witness the hearts of her two officers, to see that there are people out there that abide by that oath, those that hold it close to their souls and intend to do right; that Bora and Yoohyeon despite being so young are so much more than a team of misfits.

 _‘A force to be reckoned with even.’_ Joohyun recalls.

A force, a team, her sheep that she must protect.

Even if that means Bora will hate her for it.

Bora and Yoohyeon are not ready yet for this type of case. Joohyun had made that judgement the moment she saw Yoohyeon’s tear stained face, and Bora’s paled expression.

(But what Joohyun doesn’t know is that they’re the two that must be, for they are the two that fate calls to fight this battle.

Ready or not, fate has waited long enough.

Minji has waited long enough.)

Joohyun looks at Bora with hardened eyes, and a stern frown that only mothers’ wear when they need to hold their ground against their unruly children. “No.” She says, emotionless, if not just in her typical professional tone. 

Seungwan glances between them before settling her soft gaze on the side of Joohyun’s face. The woman is almost unreadable, but Seungwan has always been able to read in between the lines and tell when something is bothering her sister-in-law. It’s in the way Joohyun’s brows twitch ever-so-slightly or how her face seems to get harder and harder every time the air tightens with tension.

She knows that Joohyun’s relationship with Bora is somewhat complicated, but in the best way possible if that makes sense. But there’s a certain feeling in the air between those two right now that has Seungwan holding her breath, as if she knows shit's about to hit the fan.

Bora’s expression instantly shifts into a look of frustration. She uses the tip of her tongue to wet her lips before shaking her head, almost as if she’s on the verge of scoffing when she asks, “Why?”

“I already have several officers working this case already.”Joohyun’s answer only frustrates Bora more.

The officer rolls her eyes, “Yeah, and all of them are outside throwing up.” She quips, making sure to go one step further, pointing in the direction to where a group of officers are indeed throwing up outside.

_Bunch of lightweights, really._

Joohyun clenches her hands at her side into fists as she stares down Bora, who seems keen on keeping her own heavy stare. “You and Yoohyeon are not needed at this time.” Joohyun isn’t backing down. 

Though neither is Bora.

“And when will we be needed, Joohyun?” She asks with absolutely no hesitation, only pausing to allow the air to become taut with suffocating tension. “Because the way I see it you’ll keep us on traffic control until we die.” There’s a lot of truth to that. Bora can’t even remember the last time she and Yoohyeon actually did something other than writing slips for parking violations or pulling over the occasional speeder here and there.

Bora has watched all her colleagues dance around doing a majority of what their jobs as officers entail, but yet they’re still the first ones that Joohyun calls upon. Meanwhile she and Yoohyeon get the short end of the stick, but they still give it their all--only to be left in the spot they’re at.

A job, a role to get buried in.

It’s one of those things where people say: _"If you do a job well your bosses don't rely on anyone else."_ While the thought is nice in some aspects Bora can’t help but to think about it in a negative way, it’s more of a: _I don’t think you’re capable of anything else._ type of deal.

And that’s fucking infuriating to her. Because all she and Yoohyeon have done is proved themselves _over and over again._

Seungwan gasps softly over Bora’s words, while Joohyun is temporarily rendered speechless due to them.

Bora has defiled Joohyun’s wishes before, she has always gone up against her; went head to head with Joohyun, leaving them both with headaches and fuming frustration for one another.

But those were matters over now senseless things - Violating dress code. - Refusing to use assigned patrol cars. - Sneaking out with Yoohyeon to go to the Lotus festival. - And every other thing Bora gets them into. 

But this matter was different, there’s real aching frustration pouring out from within Bora’s heart, and Joohyun feels it’s scading waves colliding against her, pushing her back against these sharp rocks with nowhere to go.

She feels backed into a corner, and because of it she can’t hold back her own exasperation 

“Need I remind you that I’m your superior? If that’s my decision then you have no choice but to follow it.” She snaps, her tone biting as she shakes from the adrenaline pumping into her veins.

Who does Bora think she is? After all she has allowed her, yet Bora still demands more? It’s unreal, the nerve of her.

_I’m trying to help you, idiot._

That was the truth of it--the truth that Joohyun doesn't dare to say out loud.

 _“Joohyun.”_ Seungwan coos, her tone just above a whisper as she attempts to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand.

In all the previous times of Bora and Joohyun ' _fighting’_ Seungwan had cooled Joohyun down before the woman could reach her boiling point, but this time it was different it was going to be Bora who'd extended past the limit in which she shouldn't have.

“Cut the authority bullshit and just admit that you don’t think we’re capable.”

 _“Bora.”_ Joohyun growls through her clenched teeth, it’s her last warning; her final: _Turn back around. Because you have no idea who you’re dealing with._

But Bora does know, she just isn’t afraid.

Especially not when her truth needs to be said, not when it needs to be heard by Joohyun’s stubborn ears.

“Or is it that you think I’m not capable of getting the job done when I need to?” The frustration on Bora’s features ever-so-slowly shifts into an expression of sadness.

Joohyun and Seungwan seem to share an identical look of pure shock as they gaze into Bora’s brown eyes that are filled with hurt.

They hadn’t anticipated Bora’s words, Bora’s true feelings.

Maybe it’s the sheer exhaustion that Bora feels from today, how every less than ideal happening that has occurred tonight has perched themselves on her weary shoulders, weighing her down, threatening to crush her into the ground, leave her buried in the dirt.

Or maybe she’s had enough of not being enough.

Because when she finally speaks again it hurts her to speak her part as much as it hurts for Joohyun and Seungwan to hear it-- _to learn it._

“You’ve always looked at me differently...You’ve always seen me as the _black sheep in._ ” Bora confesses, her heart coiling itself up from within her chest.

To Bora it’s the truth. She has always felt that though the air between her and Joohyun is the same, they both breathe it in differently--they both lead a different kind of life.

Joohyun abides by the rules, and forces her own. It’s what this job, this country, this life likes. She has always been the perfect example of success by design.

And as leaders do she tends to lead by example, she tries to implement her own design onto others, hoping that maybe she can have these perfectly moulded figures for her unbelievable glass house she lives in.

Joohyun's not perfect, yet she seemingly acts like it; as if she’s untouchable-- _better even._ It’s in the way she carries herself, all high and mighty but disaffected; as if she carries the sentimentality of gods long dead and forgotten.

And those around her, her terrified if not blinded followers, part like the Red Sea every time she is near. 

But Bora has never conformed to Joohyun’s wishes, nor has she fled in fear from Joohyun’s closeness. 

Bora has never, and will never be that blank piece of paper, awaiting for Joohyun to design her into a better version of herself, a version that seemingly everyone wants her to be.

Bora has always been true to herself, regardless of what society or anyone else wants.

She is a lot more than what anyone else truly knows. She is better than how these people view her.

_I’m capable of so much more._

However, Bora’s confession; to Joohyun is so far from the truth.

Sure, they aren’t exactly friends and Joohyun doesn’t see them going out for drinks or anything like that anytime soon. But she still holds respect for Bora and her overall character.

She would be the biggest hypocrite if she didn’t.

For Joohyun isn’t nearly as strong as she’d like people to believe her to be. She’s not as perfect as these people see her as. She has _so many flaws_ , she has said things and done things that she is not proud of.

But as a good leader would, as a good person would she’s taken responsibility for her actions in the past, and she has tried to channel her energy into doing good. At the very least she’s tried to move past things.

Her good conscience shows by her desire to keep Bora and Yoohyeon out of harm’s way.

But Bora--Bora doesn’t know that.

Nor do they both realize just how similar they are to one another.

Bora really takes the moment to look deep into Joohyun’s dark eyes, hoping to see just an ounce of emotion in those hardened eyes. But she doesn’t see anything, and only then does Bora feel herself straying away from the flock-- _away from Joohyun._

“Maybe that’s why you’ve let me get away with so much shit...Maybe you thought that would somehow keep the peace. Or maybe you thought one day I’d conform to what everyone else does.” Bora says bitterly, trying to make sense of it all, of Joohyun; of this blurred line between them that neither of them have acknowledged until now.

But even now neither of them have the answers the other is looking for.

“That’s not true.” Joohyun breathes, wishing that for once in Bora’s entire life she’d let someone help her--even if she doesn’t know that's what they're trying to do for her.

All Bora has to do is just for this once _listen_ to her.

 _Really listen_.

Then these blurry lines between them might not be so blurry any more.

But the second after Joohyun blinks she catches a quick glimpse of hurt riddling Bora’s features, a sad look of: _I just can’t believe you anymore,_ before Bora shakes her head, chasing away the look as her face contorts into an expression of anger.

“Whatever.” Bora mutters bitterly before turning on her heel and walking away. There was so much more she could have said. She probably could’ve gotten into a screaming match with Joohyun if she wanted to, really.

But Joohyun’s decision seemed set in stone--as was Bora’s own.

Seungwan, nor Joohyun miss the look Bora had given them before leaving the building, a certain new fire burning from behind her seemingly sad eyes, a look of determination that spoke without words: _I’m not going to give up so easily._

Bora was determined to figure out just what the hell happened here, and she would too.

She would actually be the first one to find the first clue, the first trail that led to a place that Yoohyeon would not only dream about, but had also heard stories of ever since the age of five.

Because ever since the age of five Yoohyeon was destined to meet Bora. Bora was destined to lead Yoohyeon into the in-between.

Destined for Yoohyeon to meet Minji, who was destined all those years ago to wait for the girl who’d one day give her all those sweet kisses she’s yearned for.

But for now, seconds before Bora would find the first clue, Joohyun sighs heavily.

“ _Christ._ What the hell was she thinking? Never in all my life have I’ve been spoken to like that before.”

Seungwan seems to be jolted back into life, after spending the last few minutes in complete shock, if not just rendered speechless by Bora’s confessions. 

She sighs too, sounding tired and somewhat sad. “I’m sure Bora didn’t mean it. She’s had a long day.” She tries to reason with her friend. It’s not like it’s a stretch. Today has been a total shit show, and Seungwan knows Bora well enough to know that the officer gets a bit tense when she’s feeling undermined. 

All that girl does is work too hard, so it makes sense that she’d flip a lid when it seems like someone is critiquing her of that.

If Seungwan’s being honest she doesn’t know why Joohyun is being so pig headed on letting the two girls in on the case. Honestly, this particular one needs all the help it can get, and with Bora and Yoohyeon, two of their best shining officers, being added on the case it would make things go by a lot smoother.

But Seungwans knows Joohyun doesn’t make these types of decisions without reasons though either.

She just wishes Joohyun would tell her what those reasons are.

Maybe in all her time spent away Joohyun has reserved herself further, retreated back into old habits that Seungwan thought they both were past.

But maybe all along Joohyun didn’t let her in as much as Seungwan would have liked to believe she did.

_I wish I could understand why you don’t say much at all. Why is it that your eyes look so sad even though you try so hard for them not to? Is it something I did?_

_Did I do something that hurt you?_

Somehow it always comes back to full circle, yet Seungwan never gets to the middle of it.

Joohyun looks out the window to the trees, hoping to find some ease within them; a peace of mind from all that’s gone on today. “We all have, Seungwan.” She says the moment when she looks back to her friend.

“I know.” Seungwan says, somewhere hidden in there is: _If something is bothering you...you can always tell me._

Somehow Joohyun had heard it, clearly by the soft expression that overthrows her stoic features. But before she can muster up a response the coroner is calling for her.

Joohyun hesitates before she goes, but not before sending Seungwan a look that can only be interrupted as: _We’ll talk later._

Seungwan watches her friend head back into the little room, a wistful look contorting her features. It wasn’t much, but at least it’s something, a small step towards the middle of that circle.

But the real truth has never been kept in the middle of some circle--it’s kept in the deepest pits of Joohyun’s heart.

A place Seungwan has always been in, but yet has never seen.

 _Welcome back._ The assistant chief thinks sarcastically.

What a way to be welcomed back home.

*** 

With fire still burning in her veins Bora huffs in frustration as she stands a few steps away from the gas station’s glass double doors.

She looks up to the night’s dark sky, hoping to find some peace within the clouds. But all she is met with is rain that drops down onto her face, slides against her cheeks before dissolving into nothing.

The same kind of feeling Joohyun makes her feel, a shriveling feeling of never being enough, maybe even being just a burden-- _a lost cause._

It’s infuriating as much as it is heartbreaking.

Because somewhere deep within the chambers of Bora’s heart she had once thought that Joohyun was different from the usual superior norm, that maybe there was a small part of her that was different from all the others-

_But she’s just like the rest._

Bora has always wondered what she looked like in Joohyun’s eyes. After tonight, after seeing her own reflection in Joohyun’s hollow eyes, Bora knows she’s nothing more than another problem for her commissioner to try and solve.

(Oh, but how she couldn’t be more wrong.)

The moment that Bora looks back down before glancing over to the side because there's seemingly this magnetic pull drawing her attention, a strike of violet lighting splits across the sky; coinciding with the moment Bora sees the _first clue_ illuminated by the hue from the lighting.

Bora’s brows furrow as she takes a few steps forward, closing the distance behind her and what should be nothing more than a stray piece of trash, but it isn’t.

Ever-so-slowly she crouches down before reaching forward to grab the slip of paper that is lightly dampened over the rain. She makes sure to be extra careful in handingly it before flipping the slip around, revealing in bold letters at the top: **_Piri Hills._ **

_Piri Hills, as in the winery?_ Bora thinks to herself as she scans over the contents of the card.

It’s an employee time card.

Evident by the employee’s number, name: _Kim Sanghoon_ , week ending, exemptions, hours, rates, amount. It’s all there.

It’s all Bora needs to be intrigued.

Maybe, it’s something, maybe it's nothing. Maybe this Kim Sanghoon dropped it earlier today while stopping at the gas station, maybe he knows something, maybe he knows nothing.

 _Maybe he is the one responsible for this._ Although irrational, it’s Bora’s job as an officer to not rule out every possibility until clear evidence comes into play.

It’s also her job as an officer to turn in potential evidence to her commanding officer, but since she’s not on this case she _‘technically’_ doesn’t have to, nor is she going to.

If Joohyun wants to keep her off the case then that’s her prerogative.

But Bora isn’t going to sit idly back.

She carefully folds the slip in half, being mindful to not damage it completely before slipping it into her cleavage--seeing as how that’s her only option for a hiding spot.

(Stupid and so cliché.) 

She rises from the ground right after, glancing around to see if anyone noticed anything. Luckily, Bora was in the clearing. She makes her way to her car, not caring about the consequences that could come her way should Joohyun or anyone else but Yoohyeon find out what she’s up to.

She and Yoohyeon are going to pay Piri Hills a little visit--and they’re going to find out what the hell happened here.

Consequences be _damned._

***

Handong watches from a reasonable distance at the end from the forest’s line underneath the large tree, whose leaves shield her and Nannan from the continuous rainfall that’s seemingly pouring out in buckets from the heavens above. The dark shadows of the woods conceals her from the keen eyes of the police officers, who roam the area of the gas station across the road from her.

Flashlights held in their shaky hands, and undeniable fear riddling their trembling features as they scan the area for clues.

These are the people swore to protect others, but they’re no braver than those in which they shield.

_Terrified mortals all the same._

She watches them with playful interest, like that of a mountain lion stalking it’s _so, so fragile prey._ So easily she could take them all, kill them in a matter of seconds before any of them could even so much as let out a scream of distress.

But that isn’t what she wants, nor would that be the smartest decision.

 _No,_ she wants more clues, an inkling as to what these people have unfortunately stumbled upon. Although she knows what that is, having seen it through the eyes of Nannan. She still is curious as to who are the poor unfortunate souls that have unknowingly turned the first page in a book that stores nothing but all things wicked.

Though it was only a matter of time, really. Handong was aware of that. Sanghoon was getting sloppy beforehand, allowing multiple victims to undergo the change; in hopes that Minji, nor Handong herself would catch on to his unruly behavior. In his mind it made more sense to allow fledglings to roam the dark corners of Busan then to allow bodies to be found--solid evidence that he has been feasting on blood in which he should have never spilled.

But now it’s obvious that his appetite is uncontrollable, and that he isn’t truly thinking in the moment of his attacks that his senseless actions will have dire consequences.

The one thing Handong doesn’t understand herself is that with age builds a higher willpower to their _urges_. Sanghoon has been this way alongside them ever since that fateful night many years ago.

By all means his self control should be leveled with monks. Yet months later after his first incident with losing control here they are again, repeating the same turn of events like it’s groundhog’s day.

Only this time Minji is determined to break the circle, to rip apart Sanghoon at the cost of her own torn apart heart.

And that is something Handong would be lying if she said it didn’t scare her, even if just a bit. 

To finally witness Minji at her all time lowest, to see her suffering finally explode like a powerful still geyser that has kept it’s scalding steam in for what seems like forever, rising and rising until the moment it erupts, destroying the world around her. To ash with everything she had left to love.

To ash with Sanghoon.

Truthfully she doesn’t even know if Minji is even capable of loving someone anymore. The emotion tainted by others actions.

To be changed again, ruined by men; left no more than a shell of a former young woman who only needed someone to love her.

This is something Handong does not smile at.

Handong doesn’t even see that woman now, not even in the shell that's left over. There’s no recognition of the young woman she met all those years ago, even then Minji was different, but somewhere deep down Handong had seen just a sliver of hope shine past Minji’s obsidian eyes. 

Maybe there still is hope that Handong cannot see engraved into Minji’s stone-like features, but through her actions; through her waiting by her bedroom window, looking down onto her vineyard with eyes that don’t show the immeasurable sorrow in which she feels.

What does she wait for? Despite seemingly being all knowing, Handong hasn’t the slightest clue.

All she knows is that Minji waits everyday for something, but even then Handong’s not so sure that even Minji knows what she’s waiting for.

But for now she’s certain that Minji waits for news as to where her former beloved friend hides his cowardice head at night.

Handong is certain once again that he is not too far from home.

The red and blue flashing lights of the police patrol cars faintly skim over Handong’s alluring features as her cat-like eyes catch the movement of a woman walking across the gas station’s parking lot.

The same woman in that pink dress that Nannan had come across before.

The corners of Handong’s painted red lips curl upwards into a smile as she watches the short woman walk to her car, a very polished vehicle that’s not commonly seen throughout South Korea.

This already makes her different from the rest.

Even from where Handong hides, even through the darkness of the night; she can _see_ \- _feel_ the woman’s powerful aura. While all the other officers shake like a leaf, trembling in pure fear; while a few others relive their queasy guts of their dinners. This woman is grounded into the earth like the tree Handong rests against, a look of unshakable determination riddling her pretty features.

It looks as though she’s on a mission of her own, a certainty that she will turn another page in this forsaken book.

Handong lowly chuckles, it's full of air. _Stop now while you’re ahead._ She remarks from within her mind, wishing if only she could prod into the other woman’s thoughts, for she wonders what they hold.

_How much does she know? And why isn’t she scared?_

Handong watches as the woman gets in her car. There’s a moment where the car remains stagnant before it pulls out from underneath the canopy and proceeds to drive away from the station. Handong contemplates on following the woman, seeing just where she goes. But she decides against it, knowing that she has to be very sure that Sanghoon finished this victim off, and that there'll be no more fledgling incidents.

She’s still tracking down a few stragglers that managed to keep themselves hidden away from her radar, much to Minji’s disdain.

It wouldn’t surprise Handong either if that fucker has harmed more people in his time spent away from the manor. This after all was one occurrence she was lucky enough to come across in her hunting. It’s hard to say how many more _cases_ are out there.

She hopes for the good people of South Korea that Sanghoon didn’t leave a whole trail of transformation in the wake of his horrendous actions, and she hopes that for her and Minji’s sake that the Originals are still too preoccupied in their pretentious immortality to take notice of what’s going on throughout the lonely city of Busan.

She and Minji were the first to be changed, but does not mean they rule over those who had unfortunately suffered the ancestors' curse also. 

Handong looks back to the station after that woman’s car had gradually disappeared into the night. She strokes the soft fur on Nannan’s head as she waits for more movement inside of the building.

Her teeth itching in anticipation as to what might leave out of those doors again.

.

It isn’t too long after the coroner's examination of the scene, then readying departure does Handong finally see a black body bag being wheeled out on a stretcher into the coroner’s vehicle. 

Handong sighs in relief as morbid as that might be; it's better knowing that the victim shall remain dead, and that Sanghoon was able to drain them of their blood before fleeing the scene.

It makes complicated matters easier that way.

Having no further need to stay around any longer Handong by all means should leave now. Yet she stays, her attention captivated by Busan chief of police, _Bae Joohyun._

Handong watches the commissioner’s movements, tracks them like the hunter she is; keeping her eyes narrowed in on the woman and her blonde headed partner, Joohyun’s assistant chief Handong assumes. 

_How amusing._ Handong chuckles. If Joohyun was already digging her perfectly refined nails into this case then that ups the scale for Handong and Minji to dispose of any ties that might link them to it.

Handong knows of Joohyun through various news articles and TV reports that praise the woman for her indisputable work. In just the short amount of time of Joohyun being named Busan’s chief of police the city’s crime rates have lessened tremendously, and those that still plague the city from time to time are solved without much longevity.

Joohyun was truly a force to be reckoned with. 

As is Handong and Minji.

(As is Bora and Yoohyeon.)

Handong finds the stakes to be entertaining, to have someone of Joohyun’s level of expertise if not just down right precision in solving crimes, to have her finally stumbled upon one that they’re somewhat involved in.

Minji, however, will not find this source of information to be nearly as funny.

As much as Handong cherishes the agitation these types of things bring to Minji, she’d rather not fuel the flame that’s bound to get her burnt. 

She needs to find Sanghoon, and she needs to find him fast.

.

Joohyun deeply breathes in the night’s cool air as she stands with her hands on her hips, watching as the coroner drives off. The breath of air chills her insides, making her teeth chatter slightly due to the cold. 

But the moment that Seungwan’s comforting hand rests on her shoulder, Joohyun feels her insides warm right up. She turns on her heel, meeting Seungwan’s kind eyes that somehow shine brightly in this gloomy heavy rain.

“You okay?” Seungwan asks softly before smiling in a way that’s only reserved for moments in which that’s all a person can do.

Joohyun places her hand on Seungwan’s own, giving it a tight squeeze before she smiles in a manner that’s forced, resigned. Because she hates the idea of Seungwan smiling alone. “As much as I can be.”

“We’re in this together.” Seungwan tells her quietly, like a child revealing their most precious secret.

Joohyun smiles, genuine this time, however, she looks so tired. But she still has the strength to squeeze Seungwan’s hand one more time as she thinks about how their relationship mirrors that of Bora and Yoohyeon’s own. For they too at one point were two young girls themselves, living in a dog eat dog world, however, they managed to survive and rise to the top without fully losing themselves along the way.

Joohyun hopes Bora doesn’t hate her.

She wants to tell Seungwan why she refused to let Bora and Yoohyeon in on the case, but after learning that the victim's death was ruled a homicide by the coroner, Joohyun feels more exhausted than before.

She doesn’t even think she can find the right words to explain herself right now, not in the state she’s in; and certainty with not being able to think about anything else but the city officials storming down her station tomorrow morning.

Her conversion with Seungwan would just have to wait. 

But for now, she hopes her next choice of words count for something--because to her they mean everything.

“I’m really glad you’re back.” Joohyun tells Seungwan once more, her tone unfathomably soft--only Seungwan could see this side of her. 

While it’s still not the conversation Seungwan was hoping they would have, it’s still something. 

There’s some reassurance in Joohyun’s words that Seungwan really needed to hear.

“Me too.”

For now this is enough.

In that moment of serenity neither Joohyun, nor Seungwan hear the thunder rolling up again in the background, nor see the flashes of violet lightning in the distance. They don’t think of the danger in which they’ve unknowingly awaken, nor do they realize that two of their best rookie officers are going to uproot a whole garden ripe with forbidden fruit.

Somewhere in the far distance an apple waits to fall into Yoohyeon’s righteous hands as Bora drives them home.

Back at the gas station Joohyun can’t explain it but there’s a sudden feeling of someone--or _something_ is watching her, a hellish feeling that crawls onto her skin like the legs of a spider. She turns around, her gaze landing on the dark forest in front of her.

Her stomach turns and twists at the sight of the gloomy bark and seemingly colorless leaves. She can’t explain it but it’s like the trees are looking at her back, staring directly into her eyes and whispering: _We see you too._

But they’re just trees, old and forgotten to the rest of the world.

As is Handong, who ran away the moment when Joohyun’s eyes had subconsciously locked with hers. 

***

The car ride to Yoohyeon’s apartment would have been exceptionally quiet if it wasn’t for Miki Miatsubara’s song “Stay with me.” that had filled up the gap of silence between the two women.

There really wasn’t much to say, though there really was.

At one point Yoohyeon had utter a quiet, _“At least he's in a better place.”_ in regards to the poor man that lost his life today.

Bora had nodded, agreeing despite not knowing herself if there is life after death. But she couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ say that to Yoohyeon; not after everything that’s happened today. Not when Yoohyeon holds onto that cross necklace like it’s her life line or something.

It’s not so much that Bora doesn’t want to believe that there is someplace beyond this life here. It’d be comforting to think that after a person dies they go someplace better than what this earth had to offer.

A place that holds no pain, no, sorrow, no suffering--only joy pure immeasurable joy.

But that’s unrealistic isn’t it?

So is the thought that everything a person does in life is preordained, and with religion mostly everything about it involves fated matters.

Bora refuses to be strung along by so called fate, refuses to look at every decision as something that is ever-changing, yet set in stone. 

She refuses to look at the events today and simply go: _It is what it is._ As if she doesn’t have a say in how she sees this story play out. She’s ready to turn the next page, to fight the pages that stick together, and to comprehend words that make no sense.

She’s ready to learn what evil truly is.

Perhaps she’ll see along the way that some forms of evil aren't truly wicked, maybe she will eventually understand that like life that is ever-changing so are people.

That the decisions people make, whether fate or not, are what ties them all together.

But for now Bora is tired, she needs rest despite knowing it won’t come easy tonight. 

For now she sits on Yoohyeon’s couch inside the girl’s apartment. She waits for her friend to get done with changing out from her own dress and into mint green pajamas from inside the bathroom.

Bora absentmindedly looks around to take in Yoohyeon’s living room decor, despite having already been to Yoohyeon’s place of living multiple times now Bora still mentally notes how aesthetically pleasing her best friend’s apartment is.

All white walls and now white curtains, but the hardwood flooring is a nice burnt mahogany. Among the strands of led lights stringing across the ceiling there’s a decent amount of green potted plants scattered throughout the room but placed in an appealing way, making the home feel lively and inviting. There’s a single hanging bookshelf behind Bora’s head, the contents within it are various books, CDs, and video games. In front of Bora is a simple wooden coffee table, and in front of that is Yoohyeon’s decently sized plasma TV, the one Bora recalls watching Yoohyeon play video games with her cousin on--that is when she herself wasn’t playing some game with Yoohyeon on days she’d spend time over here.

Although not long ago, things seemed so much easier back then.

Before Bora can get caught up in her own remembrance of simpler times, Yoohyeon is coming out from the bathroom with a extra set of clothes in her hands, while her eyes appear bright despite the horror they have witnessed today.

“Stay the night?” She asks softly, before admitting, “I don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

Neither does Bora--so of course she stays.

.

Although Yoohyeon’s clothes are baggy on Bora’s small frame she still finds comfort in them. It’s in the way that the clothes smell, despite being washed they still smell like Yoohyeon, all pomegranates and lemons.

However, the fact that Yoohyeon is just inches away from where Bora lies in that girl’s bed could also contribute to that.

Yoohyeon had insisted that she could share her bed with Bora as opposed to Bora sleeping on the couch or vice versa.

Truthfully Yoohyeon didn’t want to be alone at all, She needed to have her best friend at her side in hopes that maybe the both of them could get some shut eye tonight.

So far that was proving to be impossible.

Bora would’ve liked to say this was her first ever sleep over, because it was; but it wasn’t. There was no talking or staying up all for the sake of: _Just because we can!_ There was tossing and turning, and frantic hearts beating so loud Bora could hear the beats echo through the blood pounding in her ears.

Through the silence and the soft beating of their own hearts there's a quiet unsaid: _I'm scared to go to sleep because I’m afraid of what I’ll dream of._

When Bora turns her head ever-so-slowly to the side to see Yoohyeon clinging the bed covers around her shoulders as she squirms around to get comfortable, seemingly like this is second nature to her, Bora wonders how many nights Yoohyeon had done this when she first had arrived at South Korea?

She knows of the girl’s sleepless nights, Yoohyeon had told her a while ago.

But how many were there? And why now must Yoohyeon struggle again? Why can’t she dream peacefully?

Why is it that the people who are too good for this world seemingly only receive the bad in it?

Is it because they’re the strongest of them all? The ones who can handle life’s hardships and look at them under this figurative microscope and see that maybe there's a reason for all this?

Is this how fate gets it kicks? By torturing a young woman who does not deserve it’s cruel jests.

Bora’s not so sure, but she does know that Yoohyeon is one of the strongest people she knows. Because if she were her--Bora would have cursed the stars and all their worth years ago.

She watches as the girl turns on her back, only to stare up at the ceiling without a word being utter yet. Bora follows suit, gazing up into the pitch black darkness.

It almost feels like something is hidden in darkness, almost as if it’s staring back down at them; like it’s all their fears, hopes, and uncertainties looking upon them in all their relentless drive, and hopes that maybe when the two girls fall asleep they’ll stay in that endless slumber; as if their weary bodies can’t go on anymore.

Bora feels the weight of the invisible gaze rest on her chest, it’s suffocating. She thinks about all the doubt that’s always been pitched their way, that most people in this life have looked upon them and doubted their abilities, as if they haven’t proven themselves time and time again.

Bora and Yoohyeon are living proof that they’re so much more than what defines them.

That a person’s heart is far more powerful than the doubt of others.

But they’re still human, and it still stings to be viewed as less than just that.

Somehow in the darkness Bora can faintly make out Yoohyeon's seemingly endless collages of Polaroid pictures. Pictures she had taken of South Korea, random places, various animals, and most notably pictures of her and Bora together, and all their adventures they have shared so far.

Yoohyeon values their friendship more than anything, and it shows that she is someone that sees Bora for all she’s worth and then some. 

Bora doesn’t think she’ll ever get over this feeling of dying each time she realizes that Yoohyeon loves her, like truly, deeply, unconditionally loves her.

“You were so brave today.” Yoohyeon whispers from within the silences, in which Bora’s lungs immediately feel as if they might collapse--somehow Yoohyeon always knew what to say, she always knew the words that Bora so desperately needed to hear.

There’s so much strength to her, so much consideration for others, so much love that it causes ache to take up all the room in Bora’s brash heart and scream with relief because Yoohyeon is one of the few people that has never doubted her abilities.

“So were you.” Bora whispers, her tone so low it reminds Yoohyeon of a whispering little kid, who’s way up past their bedtime--there was a bit of fear within her tone, as if she was afraid of what Yoohyeon’s reaction might be; afraid that maybe Yoohyeon would think she’s lying just to make her feel better when in reality Bora had spoke truth.

Yoohyeon shakes her head, softly disagreeing. “I was so scared, Bora.” She confesses, hating how her mind goes back to the exact moment she had screamed bloody murder after seeing the poor man’s body. “I-I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

There’s a soft pause, allowing both the women to think about that scene once more; to replay that whole event in their minds like a bad song stuck on loop.

_Blood. Blood. Blood._

But yet none.

Truly that was something that only nightmares could create. Something that only monsters can do.

Something that Bora and Yoohyeon were destined to find.

Although they didn’t know that--doesn’t destiny ensure bravery?

“Just because you were scared doesn’t mean you weren't brave.” Bora starts off before turning on her side towards Yoohyeon, in which the girl copies.

Now lying face to face with one another, Bora feels slightly nervous, worried that maybe Yoohyeon will be able to see the small missing detail of today, the clue that Bora had found and is keeping stored in Siyeon’s glove department for now.

Seeing as how Yoohyeon knows her too well, as she also knows the secrets Bora keeps; as if Bora hasn’t worked her life to keep such things locked away from the whole wide world to see.

But Yoohyeon doesn’t know that detail of today, she doesn’t have the slightest clue even. And right now as she stares into Bora’s dark eyes all she can think of is what her best friend might say next--reassurance that will hopefully bring her heart some peace. 

Bora’s throat bobs, somehow the weight behind Yoohyeon’s dark eyes is heavier than the darkness that surrounds them. “You didn’t _run._ You didn’t _hide._ You went and called Joohyun when I asked you to, and you came back in to pull me out of there afterwards.” Bora gulps, “If anything that makes you braver than me….”

Yoohyeon blinks before inhaling a shaky breath of air, her lungs burning from how long she’s been holding her breath.

_I could never be braver than you._

“Can we both just be brave together?” Yoohyeon asks, despite not needing to because with Bora it’s always a yes.

Bora nods her head, never has she been so sure before.

Because so long as they’re both together there would be no braver force on this earth.

***

Handong enters the manor soaking wet with Nannan in her arms, who despite being in a similar state as her new owner she still purrs happily as Handong puts her down for just a moment, so she can shut the doors behind her before tossing her wet jacket somewhere off to the side.

The grand foyer silently greets Handong in all it’s royal glory, cream colored stone walls and white marble title flooring shines warmly, illuminated by the warm hue from the massive chandelier hanging in the center of the room.

The black iron of the staircases' railing frames both sides, leading all the way up to the top of the staircase where a sizable landing sits, embroidered by carved out niches on each side of it.

_Home sweet home._

Nannan meows before darting up one of the stairs. Handong turns on her heel before looking directly at the middle of the landing--to where Minji stands, her hands resting on top of the black railing as she stares down at Handong.

“I leave you to your own devices and you bring back a cat.” Minji states, there’s no enmity in her tone; she's just simply acknowledging their new resident, who is currently brushing against her legs; meowing for Minji’s undivided attention.

Handong smiles. “She needed a new home. Besides I know how much you also like animals. Least we forgot about the barn full of horses you have outside.” She chuckles, watching as Minji bends down slightly to pet the top of Nannan’s head before the cat runs back down the stairwell into Handong’s awaiting arms.

Minji can’t help but to think that those two look strikingly similar somehow.

“Now all we need is those two Pomeranians.” Handong alludes, knowing damn well that Minji has been thinking about those dogs since she saw the ad in the paper about them.

It’s sweet, if not heart-rending, to see that something human still remains intact within Minji; that her compassion for animals has not been tainted by what she is.

Maybe too it’s her silent soft spot for things that have been disregarded by others, her tenderness towards the misunderstood.

Maybe that’s what keeps her sane.

Maybe she views that as all she has.

Or maybe she sees a part of her former self in the eyes of those deemed unfit, imperfect; those who so desperately want to be loved.

Her perfect home, a manor for misfits.

Perhaps that's why Minji allows Handong to freely come and go as she pleases. Because Handong has nowhere else to go.

South Korea is Handong’s home now despite it feeling nothing but foreign to her. Sure, she’s lived here for centuries now, but it's not the same.

China will always be her true home, it will always have it’s spot in her undying heart--even though she has nothing left in her former home.

The corners of Handong’s eyes sting, and for a moment she is that noblewoman, a radiant young woman, who lived life full of laughter and feared nothing. Because fear has always been akin to evil, and so long as she feared not--what evil could have harmed her?

What could she have lost in years to come?

So much buried beneath those tilted grounds.

The moment that Minji speaks again, is the moment Handong is Handong again.

“As much as I would love them, I have _other things_ that demand my attention.”

Handong tilts her head to the side as she strokes Nannan’s soft fur. “Matters that Nannan here has shown me.” She looks up at Minji, only to see a mix of emotion instantly contorting the woman’s beautiful features; from anger, to dread, to something that Handong swears is anguish.

There’s a damning pause before Handong tells Minji of everything that she and Nannan have seen.

Only after everything is said does Minji let out this piercing scream that sounds more like a roar of fury--like hell’s chariot’s burning wheels.

 _Sanghoon must die._

***

The moment that Yoohyeon’s heavy eyelids slowly flutter open her eyesight is temporarily rendered into a hazy white blur, caused by the blinding warm hues of the modern wall torch mounts and the two massive hanging crystal chandeliers that hang above her, coating her in surreal heavenly colors that is akin to paradise.

Her soft caramel tone skin shines warmly, glistening in flickers of breathless colors as _someone_ gently caresses the small of her back, their slender fingers drawing patterns that are beautiful; leaving touches that burn Yoohyeon’s skin pleasantly, in a manner that she has never felt blessed with being touch by before.

They pull her closer, needing to shield Yoohyeon’s small frame in their loving arms, wanting to protect Yoohyeon’s hopeful heart that undoubtedly will be theirs someday.

Only then, when the side of Yoohyeon’s pretty face rests perfectly on top of their shoulder, fitting like a puzzle piece--like it’s meant to; does she open her eyes once more.

She’s greeted by faces she does not remember, nor has she ever seen before. But these people, who dance with their lovers with so much grace it’s aching to watch, smile at her in a way as if they’ve been waiting to see her for a very long time.

They’re all unfathomably beautiful, holding this unreal marble beauty that Yoohyeon has only ever seen through Greek statues and paintings of gods long dead. 

Yoohyeon doesn’t smile back, for she’s caught off-guard. Her heart beating frantically from within her chest as she tries to catch a breath of air, only to taste a hint of myrrh on the tip of her tongue.

A drastic change from Bora’s vanilla perfume she had tasted back at the wedding. This, along with the major height difference between whoever this person is and Bora, is how Yoohyeon knows this isn’t her best friend dancing with her.

Bora isn’t here, and Yoohyeon isn’t dancing underneath the marquee at Miyeon and Shuhua’s wedding.

She’s somewhere else entirely.

Yoohyeon can faintly hear a song playing somewhere in the distance. But she can’t make out the song, for it sounds slowed, underwater even; all muffled and disoriented. But what she can hear clearly is the sound of the crystals from the chandeliers brushing together peacefully, as if it’s singing to her, telling her: _Don’t fret, you’re safe here._

Although something is amok, Yoohyeon feels strangely at ease, more than ever when whoever is swaying her to the song ever-so-slowly rests the side of their face against the side of her head, sighing with so much relief it causes Yoohyeon’s heart to ache. Because behind that sigh was a million different screams of anguish finally ceasing, and somehow Yoohyeon had heard all of them- _felt them._

_Who are you? Why does your heart rattle with so much pain? Why do you hold me with so much love that it causes us both to ache with a yearning that’s older than the span of time itself?_

Simple questions that intrudes her mind, sounding like that of wild horses’ hooves colliding against the flat dirt of a Texas deserts.

While still keeping her head upon her dance partner’s dainty shoulder, she glances around the room as far as her eyes could see.

Royal honey painted walls, structured in frames that remind Yoohyeon of all the finer things she’ll never have the money to obtain; spotless copper and white checkered tiles under her heels. So polished that the room full of dancers' images reflects off of them, darting away with each graceful movement, dancing in a way that’s captivating.

Yoohyeon breathes in slowly, her heart stumbling, crashing against the hard floor as her hands trail up the very tone feminine back of her dance partner. Yoohyeon gasps softly, her own skin flaring up with warmth as she leans ever-so-slowly back to finally reveal who this woman dancing with her is.

Yet all Yoohyeon is able to make out is a quick glimpse of raven colored hair before the woman twirls her outwards, her cool, but soft hand holding Yoohyeon’s own warm one as she laughs with this angelic tone, causing Yoohyeon to swoon.

There, a very short distance away from her dance partner, Yoohyeon is greeted by the rows of massive windows, embroidering either side of the ballroom’s walls; allowing the soft blue moonlight to seep into the room.

Before she swirled slowly back into the other woman’s embrace, Yoohyeon swears she sees a vague outline of a vineyard through the window’s clear glass.

The moment that she comes face to face with the other woman, Yoohyeon’s breath hitches, petrified.

She can’t even seem to focus on the woman’s face as a whole because all she can see is the woman’s hollow eyes that are painted in the most lifeless shade of black, only a single ring of blood red outlines her pupils--otherwise there’d be nothing to them other than Yoohyeon’s terrified reflection.

The last thing Yoohyeon sees is lines of ebony, dark veins protruding up against the woman’s marble skin before Yoohyeon’s mind ventures over into a different realm, as if she’s walked through a wall and now she’s in a different room.

Which she is.

Now she’s in that godforsaken gas station once again.

She can hear that cursed air conditioning unit buzzing again, but this time it’s buzzing turns into ear-piercing squeals that scream disorientingly at her: _You’re not safe here._

The horrid sounds threaten to double Yoohyeon over, but she pulls herself together by just a half as she blindly stumbles forward, reaching for the door out of here; only for her mind to wrap her into the direction of that door that leads to nothing but evil.

She hastily grips onto the handle, her knuckles turning white from the sheer force behind her frantic hold. She opens the door a second later, immediately being greeted by the stomach churning sight of a man lying sideways down into a face-full of his own blood.

Yoohyeon screams the same blood curdling scream as before, her lungs burning in pain as she drops to her knees, all her strength stolen from her by the skin-crawling sight of an innocent man ripped apart at his throat.

Yoohyeon wakes up screaming, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead; she feels on fire, doused in gasoline that is only created by pure fear.

Bora instantly wakes up, instinctively wrapping her arms around Yoohyeon’s small frame, to which the girl crashes into.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” She coos into Yoohyeon’s hair, pulling her close as she feels one of the worst feelings she has ever felt as her best friend trembles within her hold. “It was just a nightmare.” Bora tells her as Yoohyeon’s cries are muffled against her chest.

Bora runs her fingers through Yoohyeon’s soft hair, in hopes of comforting her--it seems it helps. ”it’s okay.” She whispers as Yoohyeon hiccups wetly, trying to catch any breath of air she could.

“I-It felt so r-real.” Yoohyeon stammers, her heart feeling as if it’s lodged painfully in the middle of her throat.

“It’s not though...It’s not real.” Bora whispers firmly while rubbing her hand up and down Yoohyeon’s shaking back.

Yoohyeon believes her, but somehow _that woman’s_ touch, her heart that rattled with so much pain, and her inhuman eyes felt all too real.

And the nightmare of the gas station was _very much real._

What the hell is going on?

What on God’s green earth did they stumble upon?

.

Both Bora and Yoohyeon couldn’t fall back to sleep after that. Instead they take up refuge in Yoohyeon’s tiny kitchen. Bora is just finishing with making up Yoohyeon’s cup of coffee, perfectly made with some milk, two teaspoons of sugar, and a dash of vanilla creamer in there. Yoohyeon had always requested that Bora make the pot coffee when she’s around after learning that Bora seemingly makes the best coffee around.

Bora turns around from the counter with two cups of coffee in her hands only to take a step or two to sit at the even tinier table within the kitchen. She slides Yoohyeon’s cup of coffee to her, to which the girl mumbles a sincere, _Thank you,_ before she palms the mug into her hands, allowing the heat from the liquid inside to warm up her cool hands.

There’s a beat of silence that follows after as Yoohyeon glances over to look through the small kitchen’s window beside her. It’s still pretty late into the night. The storm is long over now, the only traces of its existence are the puddles of rain outside and the leftover droplets that still cling onto various cars and signage outside.

The full moon still shines through the darkness, and somehow that sight alone brings a little bit of ease to Yoohyeon’s weary soul.

There's always light somewhere in the darkness.

But it doesn’t change the situation, it doesn’t change the sheer fact that something beyond evil occured at that gas station.

The forbidden apple teeters loosely on it’s cursed stalk.

_Waiting. Waiting. Waiting._

It’s a moment away from falling.

“Yoohyeon, I have to show you something.” Bora suddenly announces, to which Yoohyeon locks her warm eyes with Bora’s seemingly heavy ones.

Then the apple falls--right into Yoohyeon’s hands.

***

In all the time that Yoohyeon has known Bora she would’ve never, and still will never say that Bora is a reckless person. The term seems a bit harsh if not entirely off the mark for who Bora is as a person.

If asked to describe Bora, Yoohyeon would simply say that woman is a spur-of-the-moment type of gal.

So when Bora had come back inside the apartment after leaving to go get something in her car, and revealing that said something as potential evidence to a undoubtedly homicide case, Yoohyeon had to chalk it all up to that _‘spur-of-the-moment’._ Only because Bora is keeping her fight with Joohyun under wraps for now--and regardless of that honestly this isn’t anything too out of the ordinary for Bora.

This was the same woman who got them both into trouble after starting up numerous high speed chases on days where some car would exceed past the speed limit, sometimes just barely over it.

While not exactly the same as withholding potential evidence, and deeming that as enough to go on--enough to want to take a trip down to this- _“Piri Hills”_ on a whim that maybe a employee there is involved with the murder back at the gas station….

Okay maybe spur-of-the-moment isn’t exactly the best choice of words here.

“Say something.” Bora ushers softly before tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth, watching as Yoohyeon stares down at the time card in front of her. She still looks so stunned, seemingly frozen in disbelief from the moment Bora had finished explained her plans to her.

Yoohyeon shakes her head gently, laughing softly out of pure bewilderment.

Something within Bora’s heart ticks away at the sight of Yoohyeon shaking her head, laughing as the girl looks over to her, with her warm eyes that are seemingly unreadable.

It almost feels like she’s being rejected yet again, but this time it would nearly kill Bora.

_Not you too. Please have some faith in me._

There’s a heavy pause that follows after Yoohyeon’s disbelief finally wears off.

She stares at Bora, takes in her all too serious demeanor and her dark eyes that flicker with flames that no one on this earth can put out--and then Yoohyeon realizes what this all means to Bora, that this case, this clue, that man’s unfortunate death meant entirely too much to her.

Something within Bora’s brash heart had awakened after seeing such a sight, something that she can’t force back to sleep no matter how hard she tries.

She has to know what happened. She has to know who did this.

Somehow Yoohyeon knows that, for she sees it hidden within Bora’s fiery eyes.

It’s all she needs to be certain--to make the choice that will change both of their lives _forever._

“Where do we start?” Yoohyeon smiles, and Bora nearly collapses from relief, surprise, or whatever the hell she’s feeling right now.

To fate this comes as no surprise.

Because ever since the age of five Yoohyeon was destined to turn the first page in this forbidden story, with Bora by her side holding the flashlight to read the words surrounded by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreamcatcher comeback soon!!! I'm so ready! How about you guys?
> 
> As far as this story goes I hope everyone is enjoying the pacing I have set for this story. I know most readers are probably anxiously awaiting for the moment that Minji and Yoohyeon will meet. All I can say is that it's coming! As always let me know what you think if you want!
> 
> Thank you everyone, and until next time be safe and take care. Xoxo


	4. Crying in Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I won't talk too much. I just want to say thank you as always. I hope you guys like this chapter. I personally enjoyed writing it. We're now entering my favorite chapters for this story. So needless to say, ya girl is really working hard to make sure these next few chapters hit just right. Enjoy!

A few days have passed since the discovery of the body at the gas station. The expectancy of what would transpire after finding the body had gone down just as Joohyun had anticipated it would.

The city officials had blown another gasket within their masquerade concerning souls, before immediately questioning everything and anything, looking for answers that Joohyun didn’t have, nor does she still have at this time.

All she knows is that the medical examiners are doing their best to determine an exact cause of death, and not simply chalk it up as a wild animal attack. However, she’s ninety-nine percent sure that’s what the city officials want them to label it as, going on by how they had looked at her when she told them of the news.

All shrewd eyes, and closed minds when dealing with matters that are seemingly beneath them--seemingly bigger than them.

 _Bigger_ than what anyone _truly knows._

With no camera surveillance to go on, and at this point in time, no physical evidence left at the scene of the crime, it’s easier for the city officials to play this down than to willingly want to tell the public that there’s a homicide investigation ongoing in their beloved land--that something beyond what any of them could possibly ever imagine is springing to life like the wickedest of weeds; seeding it’s thorns to rise up like the sharpest of daggers and pierce their hardened hearts in all it’s unfathomable rage.

Somewhere in the distance Minji twirls the vines of the grapes around her slender fingers and frowns, crying from within the silence of her own heart because she knows that the end of everything she had left to love will soon be destroyed.

To be destroyed by her own hands that could only tarnish all in which she touches. 

**_“In later news, earlier this week a body was found in the Hadong region. Police have yet to identify the man whose body was found inside a rural gas station within the area. The man was pronounced dead upon the police's arrival. The details surrounding the incident are far and few, but Busan’s chief of police Bae Joohyun has reassured that there is no need for concern among the general public.”_ **

Joohyun’s jaw clenches before she quickly shuts off the radio in her car. She can’t stand to hear anything else pertaining to this case anymore today. Nor can she stomach the feeling of lying to hundreds of blissfully unaware people.

Truthfully she doesn’t know how much danger is lurking within the shadows. She doesn’t know if people should be locking themselves within their homes and keeping the lights shut off so that they too will blend in with whatever lies in the dark.

All she knows is protocol, and how to keep the city officials happy, which means lying to the citizens who are the people that keep them all in power.

It’s a confinement of her own morals.

 _“The truth sets you free.”_ So they say.

Joohyun supposes it’s true. Because She feels as if she’s the one being kept behind these steel bars, caged in; keeping her secrets, the truth, trapped away all in the name of keeping those around her safe.

She doesn’t know who it hurts more, her for locking herself away from everyone, or everyone around her that she keeps locked out?

And is she really on the inside looking out, or on the outside looking in?

Is anyone really benefiting from the truth being left somewhere in the dark alongside whatever monster is out there, waiting for the next rise and the final fall.

Are the citizens benefiting from not knowing what Joohyun and the others had found back at that gas station? Is Joohyun really doing Seungwan charity for keeping her at arm's length, but selfishly pulling her back in because Joohyun’s heart can’t let her go? Does Joohyun really know what’s best for Bora? Is she really protecting her from this ugly side of the world that will make its presence known despite Joohyun’s best effort to cover it all up from Bora’s changed eyes?

Joohyun isn’t so sure anymore, she feels almost hopeless; that all her best efforts are regarded beneath a level of mediocre--that she is regarded as someone who only abides by the law and not the ruling of her own heart.

Joohyun would go as far to say that this whole time all she has been acting on _is her heart_ . No matter how frozen it might be….Its still susceptible to cracks. 

Besides the city officials wearing her down thin, and the burden of knowing not a damn thing pertaining to what the actual fuck happened to that man, there’s Bora who refuses to even so much as look her way let alone speak to her. Despite Joohyun’s subtle attempts to reconcile, Bora seems keen on keeping as much distance as she can between them.

To stretch out this grey line between them even further until Joohyun loses the trail that leads to Bora’s admiration, acceptance, and respect.

This wasn’t what Joohyun wanted, nor will she ever.

So as the shepherd she is, she’ll have to look down unto her fields full of sheep, who’d follow her anywhere,because they have no other choice, and painfully wait with ache ever-so-slowly thawing her frozen heart for the day Bora will return to her.

But for now, Joohyun drives, heading to a place where half of what made her, lies beneath a mound of dirt.

_Back to Ulsan._

.

Joohyun parks at the end of where the stone graves begin, or maybe even end. She’s not so sure, all she knows is she’s taking the long walk to get to where _he is at._

The mid-morning air breezes through her dark hair, making the end of her bangs brush against her forehead as she walks with her head down, making sure to watch where she steps so as to not disturb the sleeping souls here. There’s so many, too many to possibly count. Each gravestone is like a hard spine of a book, displaying the title, the name of the stories that each person here carries deep below the ground, unreadable, unseeable--forgotten with time.

History, stories that are long dead.

It’s a sad thing, really.

To have lived life, endured it’s struggles, relished it’s joy, and gladly emerged in all the love life had to give. Only for it all to be a fleeting thing in the end. Such power, easily taken by one final breath.

_The final fall._

However, there’s remembrance here, and within the souls of those who keep their lost loved ones alive within their hearts.

But most of the time people don’t want to remember what will undoubtedly bring them heartache. Instead most move on and forget because it’s easier to keep going than to fight against the pain of the past, who’d keep everyone it could there with it while everything else goes on.

Joohyun stays somewhere in the in-between, with one foot in the future and one foot still stuck in the past. It’s enough to keep her in the middle of things, as to not look so far ahead she forgets everything that’s made her into the person she is today. But also to stay a bit behind, to know that all the future brings is _change and uncertainty._

Sure, she adapts to it, but she won’t forget the recollection of the pain that change must undergo to be changed.

Houses are often built by worn hands and bloody chipped fingernails. Hearts are often reshaped by the misconduct of others, for they beat faster at sweet words of another, but sink and fizzled out by the tongue of those that have bit off more than what teeth ever could.

Then some hearts are changed, split entirely apart at the loss of another, by the loss of someone whom Joohyun kept in the grandest place within her heart despite not knowing if she too had a room worthy of her within their own heart--a room that always seemed more reserved for her little sister.

Cherry blossom petals fall off the branches of the trees, coating Joohyun in soft shades of pink while she glances at the petals below her feet, who are shriveled and dull of that lively color.

She doesn’t know which of the two she resembles more….

Is she really ahead? Or is she still stuck in the past?

It doesn’t matter, not right now. Because the moment she looks up, sees the grave marker in which her father remains sleeping under, forever in his eternal rest; Joohyun reminiscence of the past, and what the future could have been is far more greater than where she herself is at in life. 

At the age of eighteen, months before Joohyun had left for KNPU her father had fallen sick. Unbeknownst to everyone he had been dealing with emphysema for the last few years of his life. He was handyman by all means, and with that line of work and especially in his day and age of working there had been many years of him working without protection--dealing with heavy paints and so much damaging particles to the lungs.

It wasn’t till the very end, when her father was all skin and bones and attached onto a ventilator did Joohyun’s family learn that all those years of him working was his years of working himself into the ground.

And at the very end, in his final moments he had looked at Sooyoung like she was his whole world and told her: “ _I love you more than anything, and I am so proud to have you as a daughter.”_

Quite different from when he had looked at Joohyun through half-lidded eyes, as if her being within his presence was a tiring thing before he barely muttered out: “ _Watch over your sister.”_

Then he was gone. 

No, _I love you,_ or _I’m proud of you_.

A figurative final slap to Joohyun’s face, that told her: _Protect your sister because she is my greatest successor._

Perhaps there’s some truth that rings to that. Because the moment that Joohyun rounds the corner of the grave she sees that it’s overflowed with colorful flowers, beautiful bouquets and an assortment of blue flowers that are crowned in a headstone saddle on top of her father’s grave.

Flowers that are much nicer than the small cluster of daisies that fall out of Joohyun’s weakened hands. 

Sooyoung always had to one up her on everything, and for what?

She already has everything that Joohyun secretly wishes she had. 

The true respect of others, being the favorite child among their parents, and Seungwan’s wonderful heart. 

Joohyun almost falls to her knees, but she can’t. Not when she has learned how to stand on strained feet that are calloused and bruised from all the weight in which she carries. 

The unbearable weight of never being enough.

The sun’s bright hue reflects off of the blue petals of the flowers, a tantalizing glare that silently says: _Did you miss me while I was gone, Unnie?_

Joohyun feels her heart coil up from within her tight chest while bitter tears sting at the corners of her dark eyes.

_Welcome back, Sooyoung._

***

“Honestly I don’t see why we can’t just go now!” Bora huffs as she watches Yoohyeon grab a hold of the glass pitcher full of strawberry syrup, she seems totally unfazed by Bora’s slight child-like tantrum.

Should the truth be known she’s been dealing with Bora’s over-eagerness to jump right into this case since day one, Bora not understanding that if they don’t play this out right--they’ll reach an end before even getting to the beginning.

Yoohyeon admires Bora’s drive, and she understands where her best friend is coming from. Yes, the person responsible for all this needs to be brought to justice before he or she harms anyone else. They share that as a common goal, but what Bora seems to be tossing aside is that they’re also bound by secrecy now.

This by all means isn’t their case.

(Oh, but it is.)

“Because.” Yoohyeon draws out before sticking her tongue out in pure concentration as she begins to pour the syrup over her Souffle pancake, the one that Bora always buys for her. “That would be pretty stupid.” She finishes matter-of-factly, if not confident for someone who is practically drowning their breakfast in so much sugar that she’s pushing her luck on early stages of heart disease.

God forbid the day Yoohyeon’s heart stops beating due to something she loves.

Bora rolls her eyes before she looks down at her own breakfast, allowing her and Yoohyeon’s favorite diner a moment of peace; all that can be heard is the light clinging of dishes and the faint sizzling of grease in the cook’s frying pan while a few other morning patrons discuss the weather among other mundane topics. 

Bora makes an attempt to take a bite of her food, only to end up playing around in it, watching absentmindedly how the strawberry sauce mixes together with everything but yet retains its predominant shade of red.

Somehow it reminds her of that man’s spilled blood.

Bora’s face instantly contorts into a look of disgust before she looks back up at Yoohyeon, only to see the girl’s face is snuffed with food, she looks like a chipmunk; all chubby cheeks and big eyes as she stares up nervously at Bora, almost as if she’s expecting Bora’s rebuttal.

“What’s stupid is playing the waiting game. The longer we wait the more time passes for whoever it was that killed that man to get off Scot-free.” 

Yoohyeon frantically waves her hand in front of them, as if to tell Bora to, _Shut up!_ as she glances around, looking to see if anyone heard her partner's words. Luckily, everyone seemed too preoccupied in their own conversions to notice what Bora had said.

Yoohyeon chews a bit more on the food in her mouth before she shallows. “No, what’s even more _stupid_ is barging into someone’s home and demanding answers without having the slightest idea as to who they are.” She fixes Bora with a look.

It’s the truth too. Neither Bora, nor Yoohyeon knew the seemingly reclusive owner of Piri Hills, not to mention the estate alone sounded more like a secluded winery as opposed to the several open-to-the-public ones around the area. All they really had to go on was some lousy Google search that stated Piri Hills was within Hadong county; to which Bora had loudly declared her conspiracy that it was all linked due to close proximity and that employee’s time card.

While indeed plausible, there’s yet to be a probable cause.

Right now there’s coincidences, and Bora, who for the life of her, hates when people chalk it up to that. 

“So? All that means is we’ll catch em’ off guard.” Bora counters weakly, knowing damn well that her plan is entirely too bold, if not extremely risky.

“And then when they inform Joohyun that two of her officers are harassing them, not only will she skin us alive, we’ll more than likely lose our jobs for withholding evidence.” Yoohyeon supplies firmly, to which Bora’s whole demeanor seems to flatten, defeated.

Yoohyeon has always been the voice of reason, but Bora guesses that somewhere within her own mind she had thought that Yoohyeon’s acquiescence had been the girl agreeing to her plans with any protest.

But after Yoohyeon had refused to storm Piri Hills literally on the same day Bora had told the girl of her own plans, Bora should have known that Yoohyeon is taking this matter under the guise of a vigilante, like a hidden crusader--like _Batman._

Plus if Bora was to put her stubbornness away for one moment, she’d know that Yoohyeon isn’t wrong. She understands that they both have a lot on the line that they could lose should the wrong type, or right in this case, people find out. It goes without saying too that Bora would rather throw herself onto train tracks for an oncoming train to hit her than to ever have Yoohyeon lose all she’s ever worked so hard for in life.

Bora would never forgive herself if that was the end result to all this.

Bora sighs, silently acknowledging that Yoohyeon’s points are valid. She just wishes they could act now and think later, something about sitting around waiting for more answers to fall into their hands is more unrealistic than monsters hiding under people's beds.

There’s a silent beat as Bora looks down to her food again before this sudden feeling stirs awake from within her chest, a question she hasn’t had the time to ask Yoohyeon because the last few days have been filled to the brim with Google searches, bickering relentlessly between them, and lastly keeping Joohyun and everyone else unaware of that they’ve been up to--Yoohyeon’s golden plan of: _Lie low then we’ll go._

The moment that Bora looks deep into Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes, she can’t help but to wonder why Yoohyeon had agreed to this in the first place. Sure, they’re best friends and yeah, maybe their bond is stronger than the chains of time...but that couldn’t be the only reason, right?

A testament to their friendship? Yoohyeon’s determination to stay by her side despite the darkest of midnight smoke they’ll have to fight through? 

She knows Yoohyeon loves her, for she has made it known without words that she will never let Bora go through this life all alone so long as she’s by her side. 

But why?

Love has never been that simple, nor are people that selfless.

However, Bora knows that Yoohyeon has never been one to be entirely selfish. The only thing that girl ever did for herself was move to a foreign country because something had been drilling at her heart ever since the age of five, ever since her mother told her stories of a life beyond all they’ve ever known. And even then Yoohyeon moved here to become a police officer, an enforcer of good, _truly good_ \--not driven by power like others.

Then there is her heart….A heart that holds love that feels so simple, that feels _so right._

 _It’s too good_ \-- _Yoohyeon_ is too good for her.

So when Bora finally asks, “Why did you agree to all this?” It's her insecurities rearing their ugly head into the equation, but there is no anger or anything foul within Bora’s tone--there’s simply uncertainty and a genuine question that most would have asked way sooner. 

Yoohyeon immediately looks taken back, the corners of her delicate lips dropping into a frown before her mouth hangs slightly agape. But she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Because you're my best friend.” As if that’s more than enough of a reason.

Bora slightly shakes her head, dismissing that as Yoohyeon’s sole reason for agreeing to all this, despite knowing that somewhere deep within her own heart that Yoohyeon speaks with sincerity, and makes her own decisions based on matters of thine heart. 

For she acts out of passion, and fights others’ battles out of love.

There’s a lengthy pause.

Yoohyeon’s fork hits against her plate, the high pitched cling rings between them, “At first I really wasn’t for sure. I thought this whole idea was crazy.. _too crazy_ even for _us._ ” She admits quietly, after the silence had hung awkwardly between them, for Bora’s gaze didn’t let off, even now she looks at Yoohyeon like she’s willing to wait years for the girl to speak her peace if she has to.

But there isn’t really much to say that Yoohyeon hasn’t already said, that she hasn't made known so many times before. But she still voices out how she feels, for she wants to after seeing the lack of understanding in her best friend’s pretty eyes--It’s funny too, ironically so. Because that’s one of the reasons Yoohyeon was so sold on helping in the first place.

“But I saw this _look_ in your eyes that night...It’s like you just had to know, like it was eating you up inside, and it was like the only way that feeling could go away was if you and I figured this thing out together.” Yoohyeon pauses, breathing in. Bora on the other hand breathes out the heavy air from within her own lungs, releases the shred of doubt she carried for Yoohyeon. “I couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ let you do this all by yourself.” 

Somewhere behind Yoohyeon’s heartfelt truth is: _You’ve done so much for me. You saved me at a point in my life where I was close to giving up on myself. You took me to that festival, then to your cousin’s wedding both in which you poured your heart out to me. I know how hard that was for you, but you trusted me enough to keep your secrets and to not judge you for having them. You buy my breakfast every morning, and call me before I rest my head at night, as if hearing your voice alone will chase away all my nightmares. You’re the first person that genuinely smiled when I told you my reasons for coming to South Korea. You didn’t judge me or think I was childish for having a dream that I made a reality…..made enjoyable because of you. I owe you so much, and I love you so much more._

Although those are words not said out loud, Bora somehow hears them in the soft beating of Yoohyeon’s heart--feels them speak through the next words that Yoohyeon utters quietly, “I’d do anything for you, Bora.”

Bora’s heart sighs with relief, her heart beating full of appreciation, full of love. She almost feels stupid for second guessing Yoohyeon. But she’s only human, and honestly it feels reviving to hear the reassurance out loud.

Within this strong moment of honesty Bora wants to finally tell Yoohyeon of her ‘ _little disagreement’_ with Joohyun, seeing as how the topic hasn’t come up over the last few days. She wants to tell her best friend that not only does she want to solve this case, figure out what kind of evil does that to a person; but to prove to Joohyun that she’s capable of so much more.

That’s she’s not just some black sheep to be sorted at the tail end of things, following behind others at the very back. Because the order of things has always been more important than standing out among the crowd.

Because order is what tries to rule the heart, cage it, trap it behind bendable steel bars. 

And, _-Goddamn-_ Bora has been nothing but all heart. Yoohyeon has _always_ been nothing but all _heart._

But the moment that Bora once again goes to pour her heart out is the moment that Yoohyeon surprisingly spills hers out--her golden heart lying bare for Bora to see.

Heavenly rose gold liquid spilling from out of it. “If I’m being honest too...I keep having nightmares.” She confesses, her warm brown eyes dimming a shade, looking awfully sad as she gazes into Bora’s eyes, however, it’s like she is looking right through her, lost somewhere. 

“I was hoping I could get some closure out of this.” Yoohyeon adds, her tone so soft that Bora had barely heard her.

Bora softens, a look riddled with heart-rending ache for Yoohyeon who deserves to sleep peacefully, to dream of things that will bring her hopeful heart irreplaceable joy.

The corners of Yoohyeon lips ever-so-slightly curl upwards, a fighting attempt to ease Bora’s concerns, a smile that whispers without words: _It’s okay._

But it isn't.

Bora hesitates, “About the man?” She asks softly, watching Yoohyeon closely as the girl’s eyes immediately look down to her plate, the manner similar to someone retracting their hand from a scorching surface. 

“Yeah.” It’s half of the truth, most of Yoohyeon’s nightmares are centered around that poor man-- _but then there’s others,_ dreams that Bora doesn’t know of.

For the last few nights Yoohyeon has dreamed of being lost in a maze of vines, smelled the scent of rotting fruits, heard the powerful hooves of a horse kicking up dirt somewhere in the distance. Then last night alone, she had dreamed of hot open mouth kisses from soft delicate lips that had trailed down the shell of her neck before warm blood had poured out from her own throat, filling the mouth of her attacker? Lover? Whoever that woman was. Before Yoohyeon had jolted awake.

She didn’t get the chance to see that woman’s face in her dreams, but Yoohyeon knows it’s the same woman whose heart had rattled with so much pain in her other dream just nights before.

Yoohyeon can’t explain it, really. She doesn’t understand why she keeps dreaming about this woman. She almost wants to blame it on her psyche that’s been sort of screwed up since witnessing the gore and grim of that man’s body. Sure, Yoohyeon has gotten better in regards to when she thinks about that scene she doesn’t cry anymore, nor does her skin feel like it’s crawling due to the awfulness of it all. But her stomach still flips and twists unpleasantly somewhere within the deep pitch of her gut when she thinks about who would do such a thing.

It’s all, the man’s death, her dreams, kind of morbid and disturbing enough that Yoohyeon forces it in the furthest depths of her mind, swearing that all will be okay.

A moment later, Bora reaches across the table to gently take Yoohyeon’s shaky hand into her own before giving it a firm squeeze--it’s her silence promise that she’ll make sure Yoohyeon finds closure in all this.

That one day Yoohyeon will sleep peacefully. 

Yoohyeon smiles at her, it’s kind of sad. Bora returns a smile just as heartbreaking before deciding now’s not the time to bring up the whole incident with Joohyun.

They’d find the time to talk about that later.

But for now fate’s calling is just around the corner.

That forbidden apple rolls out from behind the chrome lunch counter, bringing along with it the second clue.

The waitress, who has come to know Bora and Yoohyeon because of their daily patronage to the diner, comes walking out from behind the counter.

 _Park Chaeyoung._ Or as she insists to be called _Ros_ _é_ _._

Rosé is all teenage niches, right down to her pretty pink nail polish and her long Rapunzelous hair that is kept in a high ponytail. A few wisps of blonde hair fall down from her tied up hair, framing her face in beautiful youth that will never die out in her ageless heart.

The second that she sees Bora and Yoohyeon looking her way, her face lights up; far more brighter than the warm sunlight seeping in through the diner’s windows. She walks their way, her warm smile never leaving her face not even when she stops at the end of the booth that Bora and Yoohyeon are occupying.

“How was breakfast?” She inquires happily, looking between the two women as she redoes the knot on her black apron.

“Perfect as always.” Yoohyeon smiles, prompting Rosé to scoot into the booth next to her like she has done so many times before.

“Good!” Rosé chimes, settling into the seat, not caring that she’s still on the clock and has just come back from a fifteen minute break.

The cook sees her from the order window, looking at her with furrowed brows before shaking his head, laughing.

Rosé has worked in this diner since the age of sixteen. She’s put in her hours and worked on days where none of the other waitresses would. She can get by with taking it easy every once in a while. Besides, it’s not like anyone is going to yell at someone like her, for she’s all pretty-face and doe eyes.

“Should I get takeout boxes for you guys?” She asks after noticing Bora has barely eaten anything. But the waitress doesn’t make a point to bring it up, seeing as how Bora is six years her senior. While both Yoohyeon and Bora have insisted that the teenager can speak comfortably around them, Rosé still doesn’t want to cross any lines. 

“Sure. That’d be great.” Bora answers, to which Rosé nobs at.

Before the teenager can even so much as stand up the radio that sits on top of the lunch counter fizzles with heavy static, causing the three of them to look it’s way.

A second later one of the men sitting next to the radio gives it a nice slap, knowing all it needs is a little jolt to get back to working order again. It seems to do the trick because right after it hits it the radio begins to replay the same report that both Yoohyeon and Bora have heard restlessly throughout the last few days.

**_“In later news, earlier this week a body was found in the Hadong region. Police have yet to identify the man whose body was found inside a rural gas station within the area. The man was pronounced dead upon the police's arrival. The details surrounding the incident are far and few, but Busan’s chief of police Bae Joohyun has reassured that there is no need for concern among the general public.”_ **

Rosé ever-so-slightly shakes her head, her usual happy demeanor changing into an expression of sadness. “Can you believe that?” She questions more so to the heavy air hanging around them than to the two officers themselves. She breathes in, “We hardly ever have news like that. It’s sad to think how close to home it is.” She sighs. 

Bora and Yoohyeon shift nervously in their seats, for they’re scared that Rosé will look at them and somehow realize that they know more than what they let on.

But the girl seems none the wiser, opting to stand up to go fetch some to-go containers.

But within that moment something seems to point at Bora’s soul, she doesn’t realize that fate is prodding her to ask her question, that without a doubt, will have a series of answers.

“Rosé you wouldn’t happen to know anything about a place called Piri Hills would you?” In Bora’s mind it makes sense that the waitress would probably know something, seeing as to how most of the girl’s days are spent listening to patrons gossip, and getting to know people on a daily basis.

Since Piri Hills isn’t so far away from Busan...It had to come up in someone’s conversion, right?

Yoohyeon shoots Bora a subtle look, a silent: _What are you doing?_ As her teeth begin to inch unfathomably.

They’re _so_ going to get caught.

Bora has to choose to ignore her best friend’s quiet attempts to shut her down, as to not blow their cover, whilst Rosé’s highly defined eyebrows furrow together.

“Piri Hills?” Rosé pauses before adding, “like the winery in Hadong?” She questions sounding nearly as confused as Bora had been when she had found that employee time card.

Bora tries to not let the girl’s seemingly uncertainty, or lack of an answer, bother her. But she’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been hopeful that maybe Rosé could point them in the right direction or something. Bora would rather have some sort of inkling as to who the owner is, rather than sit around and twiddle her fingers with Yoohyeon all day or _-God forbid-_ spend anymore time on Google just to show up with no results.

“Yeah.” Bora breathes, not really sure why she’s still continuing this conversion when Rosé seems to not have the answers that she and Yoohyeon are looking for.

_But she does._

“Yeah, the owner here does business with the owner there. Piri Hills supplies our wines.” Rosé smiles. Unbeknownst to the waitress, Bora’s heart drops and Yoohyeon’s teeth instantly stop itching as she subconsciously leans forward. Bora sends a sideways look her way, a thrilled: _Holy fuck!_ before looking back at Rosé who seems oblivious to her two favorite patrons' internal glee.

“I didn’t know you serve wine here.” Bora replies nonchalantly, not wanting to seem overly keen on asking the biggest question that’s burning from within the middle of her throat.

“That’s because you and Yooh never stop in for dinner. I’ve been telling you guys for months now that if you love the breakfast menu so much then you have to try our main meal courses.” Rosé says playfully, looking between the two women with a fond smile on her pretty pink lips.

Yoohyeon smiles back, “We’ll have to stop by one evening then.” She is playing this cool.

“The wine is what sold you, huh?” Rosé jokes, not knowing that there’s so much truth behind her words.

Yoohyeon laughs awkwardly, “I guess you can say that.”

Bora instantly sends a look her way before looking back at Rosé.

“So you’ve met the owner of the winery then?” Bora asks innocently, her dark eyes shining with masked naivety. 

Something about Rosé’s demeanor changes into that classic display of subtle teenage bragging. She shrugs her shoulders before sitting back down next to Yoohyeon again, a huge telling smile spread across her lips “Well I didn’t exactly meet _her_ per se. But I did see her through the kitchen’s window!” Rosé gloats before quickly adding, “That was like years ago though.”

Bora hums, nodding her head. Yoohyeon watches the teenager closely while listening in even closer, as to not miss a single word.

“So she used to come in here?” Bora questions, mentally noting that the exclusive owner of Piri Hills is in fact a woman.

Rosé shakes her head, “Not really. The only reason I saw her that once was because the diner received some wine that wasn’t up to par with what the cooks wanted. So Minji-ssi came down to personally apologize for the batch sent out.”

Bora arches a single brow. _“Minji?”_ She baits, hoping Rosé hits at it.

“Kim Minji. The owner of Piri Hills.” Rosé clarifies.

_Got em’._

There’s a pause between them all, and Rosé takes in Bora and Yoohyeon’s silence as lack of knowledge pertaining to who Kim Minji is. It’s sort of funny, if not surprising that those two of all people don’t know of one of the richest people within the South Gyeongsang province.

“I can’t believe you guys haven’t heard of her. She was in the news a while back for adopting some of the thoroughbreds off the track after that barn fire nearly killed all the horses inside.” Rosé informs as she looks between the two women who seemingly carry this deer caught in headlights expression over being called out. 

“We don’t read the news much.” Yoohyeon supplies weakly, laughing awkwardly to try and suppress the unpleasant nagging feeling that secrecy often brings to her truthful heart. 

“Alright _officers._ ” Rosé jokes once more, standing up to finally get those to-go containers.

Bora forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before Rosé walks towards the backroom.

A moment later the door to the diner opens up, letting in a gust of chilly air. Bora’s eyes flicker over to the door, while Yoohyeon doesn't bother to turn around and look.

Bora watches as some dark-haired teenage girl breezes past Rosé, but not before quickly sending a longing look the waitress’s way before she sits down at the booth in the very back of the restaurant.

 _Ros_ _é_ _’s little secret admirer._ Bora thinks playfully, knowing damn well that girl isn’t coming in early on weekend mornings for the scramble eggs here.

The love-bitten teenager doesn’t make much noise, Yoohyeon watches the young girl scan the menu while her eyes glance back and forth from the words written down on there then to Rosé, who is coming back out from the kitchen with two white Styrofoam to-go containers in her hands. 

Rosé notices the girl the moment that she rounds the corner of the lunch counter. She sends a shy wave her way, to which the girl blushes, her face dusted in the brightest shade of pink.

Yoohyeon’s heart skips a beat at the sight. Despite all the wickedness in the world there’s still places where love can be seen blooming, like soft yellow petals of sunflowers that somehow will always outshine the darkest of times. 

All these little displays of love, and grander displays like Miyeon and Shuhua’s wedding reminds Yoohyeon how alone she is in that department. Not to mention Gahyeon just has to remind her, at every given chance she can get, how her older cousin is twenty-two and has yet to kiss some pretty girl.

It’s sort of funny, kind of sad. However, Yoohyeon hasn’t really made an effort to put herself out there. It’s not that she doesn’t want somebody to have and to hold, she does want that. But the timing has never been right, nor has she really met or seen anyone that’s caught her eye.

(Yeah, there’s Joohyun. But truthfully Yoohyeon simply admires the older woman’s beauty and her strong willpower to get the job down. Honestly, there has never been that electric chemistry between them. Plus if Yoohyeon didn’t know any better she’d speculate that Joohyun’s heart seems to be someplace else.)

And dammit, Yoohyeon is one of these people that wholeheartedly believes in true love. She honestly knows that her romantic soulmate is out there somewhere. Doing what? She doesn’t know. But what she does know, and believes fully in her hopeful heart is that she can feel them near, almost as if love is closing in on her.

She can’t explain this magnetic pull that seemingly is pulling her along without her full understanding of it--but she feels it.

Truthfully if Yoohyeon was to look deeply within the confinements of her own heart, she’d realize that the love of her life lived within her mother’s stories, and was _that thing_ that had grabbed onto Yoohyeon’s heart all those years ago and never since has let go. 

That maybe the reason she hasn’t found that pretty girl to kiss yet is because Minji is still waiting for her beside that heartbreaking window. 

Rosé is back by their table, placing the containers down for Bora and Yoohyeon to grab onto.

The waitress watches the two women slide the remaining food off their plates and into the containers. “She was really pretty too.” Rosé suddenly admits, a dreamy tone over taking her voice as she looks somewhere far in the distance, as if to remember the marble beauty that had riddled Minji's features.

Yoohyeon looks up to the girl, her heart doing somersaults at the implication of _Kim Minji’s_ ethereal beauty. She doesn’t know why but her mind goes back to the dream she had last night, to the pair of lips pressing firmly against her pulse point, a feeling of a thousand silent declarations of: _I love you so much that it's killing me._

What Yoohyeon truly doesn’t understand is why she pairs those lips with the face of Kim Minji, a woman whom she has never seen before.

“If she wasn’t nine years my senior, I might’ve had the courage to ask her for her number.” Rosé’s voice pulls Yoohyeon from her thoughts.

Bora scoffs fondly, shaking her head. Well there goes her visal painting of Kim Minji being a woman in her late sixties. “What stopped you is her age, and not the sheer fact that she could use your yearly salary as compost for her grapes.” She quips, gaining an eye roll from the teenage waitress.

“Let a girl dream.”

All three of the girls laugh before Yoohyeon glances over to the dark-haired girl still sitting by herself, looking at Rosé like she’s the sun, blindingly beautiful to her eyes.

“Seems like you have someone who wants yours.” Yoohyeon alludes, to which Rosé eyes flicker over to the other teenager before looking back at Yoohyeon.

“Who, Jisoo?” Rosé smiles, suddenly her whole demeanor seems to to shift into sheepishness.

Yoohyeon nods her head, smiling knowingly the moment when Rosé tucks a strand of her own blonde hair behind her ear before glancing back over to Jisoo, only to look away once again.

_Oh, teenage romance._

“You think so?” Rosé asks, tugging her bottom lip with her teeth as she looks to Yoohyeon, hopeful.

“Rosé, that girl comes in here every weekend just to check you out. I can’t believe you hadn’t noticed it.” Bora chimes in, opting to tease the teenager with her own similar wordage.

Rosé’s face quickly flares up, coloring her cheeks with a deep shade of red as she swats at Bora’s shoulder, gigging despite the embarrassment she feels from the officer’s bluntness.

“Go talk to her.” Bora says softly, feeling as if she’s the girl’s supportive parent or something.

Yoohyeon is quick to agree, nearly pushing the girl over in Jisoo’s direction as she exits the booth. Bora laughs as she tidies up the table before placing enough cash underneath the bill that Rosé will have a nice little tip, despite tipping being a foreign thing within South Korea. Yoohyeon had been adamant before about sharing the wealth with those who work for the public, it’s one of her customs that she had refused to leave behind in America--so naturally Bora has adapted that part of Yoohyeon’s culture into her own everyday life as well. Sure, sometimes she gets a weird look for it, sometimes the workers even refuse. But Bora still persists with it. Just as Yoohyeon persists with her tutoring of English to Bora on days where they sit inside of Siyeon, watching the traffic with nothing to do.

It’s funny how different they are, but yet Bora can’t help but to feel like they’re entirely the same, like a coin but with two different sides. Bora wants to know Yoohyeon’s side of things, and to learn all that her best friend is willing to teach. Yoohyeon just has this indescribable specialness to her that Bora can’t help but to be greedy with.

The minute that Yoohyeon looks at her, smiling with her eyes that are closed in happy crescent moons, Bora hopes that no one on this earth takes that specialness away from Yoohyeon, steals it because the ownership of things has always been more common than that of love which sets people free.

Because ownership and love are not the same thing.

.

When Bora and Yoohyeon exit the diner they can’t help but to notice through the diner’s large windows that the two teenage girls inside seem to be hitting it off.

The officers smile to themselves as they walk over to where Siyeon is parked. 

Along the way Bora purposely brushes her shoulder against Yoohyeon’s own, prompting Yoohyeon to look her way.

“Not only did we just finished playing matchmaker, but we got some more insight as to who’s the leading authority over this Kim Sanghoon.” Bora smiles, feeling proud of them both.

Yoohyeon chuckles, opening the car door before settling inside, to which Bora copies. “You picked up on the news bit too, right?” She questions, buckling her seat belt before looking Bora’s way.

“Of course. Now are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bora’s eyes shine mischievously.

Yoohyeon smiles, “Police archives might have that newspaper write up on the adoption of those horses. Which means we’ll probably have a face to match to Kim Minji.”

The corners of Bora’s lips curl into a massive grin. “Which means we’re one step closer to Piri Hills.” She puts her key into the car’s ignition starting the engine up as she and Yoohyeon go over their new plan to get into the archives without Joohyun figuring it out.

Back at Ulsan Joohyun’s weakened hand rests upon her driver's side door handle. She stares blankly back into the stone eyes of a large angel sculpture that stands at one of the graves.

Joohyun thinks about angels choking on their own halos, what it means to sacrifice oneself for the greater good; what it means to be pure but to inevitably fall into things that are evil.

She thinks of Yoohyeon and Bora, and why that is the reason alone she had refused to allow them in on this case.

She couldn’t bear the sight of her two favorite officers choking on their own badges, sacrificing a part of themselves for a world that is beyond pure.

***

The warm sunlight shines down, coating Nannan’s slick grey fur with a rush of warmth as she watches the small field mouse in front of her twitch its nose; for it can sense she is near but it cannot see her due the the long vines of the grapes, veiling her in a layer of shadows as her wide green eyes flicker from the darkness.

The mouse’s nose twitches once more, then Nannan pounces out from behind the veil.

Her nails sink into the dirt beneath her, for she had missed her first attack on the prized meal. The mouse had just barely escaped her claws, darting off in the direction past Handong; who is harvesting the grapes from the vines one by one.

Nannan zooms past her, chasing after the fleeing prey, to which Handong simply smiles; shaking her head fondly at the sight as she watches her beloved cat storm off into the woods.

Not knowing that Nannan would find the prey in which Handong has been long after.

.

It’s not too long after, Nannan finds herself deep within the woods, yet not too far away from the manor. For she’s following the pathways that Minji often takes when she goes riding. Trails kept concealed by the massive trees that surround the area, making the scenery look like that of an ancient zen forest.

Nannan’s pupils widen to the size of saucers once she spots her prey fleeing into the distance, off into a spacious spot that is shielded by trees. She gives chase, following eagerly as her stomach growls with hunger.

There within the spacious spot lies a smokehouse, forgotten by time but not by Minji.

A building that contains the evil of the past, the evil of the present that lives from the past.

Nannan lowers herself to the ground, claws digging into the earth, vibrating underneath the veins from within her sharpened claws; she feels the earth’s life force, her adrenaline feeds off of it.

Just like she is about the fed off of her prey.

Just as Sanghoon feeds off of squirrels from behind that smokehouse, unbeknownst to Nannan who leaps once more; only to miss once again.

She watches in frozen horror as the field mouse runs off, heads in the direction of the smokehouse to which Sanghoon is rounding the corner from behind it.

The man who killed Nannan’s once beloved owner is just a few feet away from her, looking entirely disheveled, entirely weak; entirely a coward.

But it is Nannan who flees in fear as she runs with her tail between her legs.

. 

Nannan finds Handong right where she had left her, still picking those grapes; smiling without a care in the world, as if Minji’s fury all those nights ago had not been engraved into her mind, branded there for Handong to remember for all of eternity.

Minji’s scream of anguish...a _damning thing._

Though that had been nothing new, for Handong has accepted that Minji is a woman fueled by grief, kept alive by the hatred of her own self.

This is heartbreaking, this is the truth.

Handong will always find it easier to live life by the lie from within a smile than to ever allow her own anguish, her own hatred of the past to ruin all she has left.

A changed image of herself, of her smile that has been tarnished with blood far too many times.

_‘My greatest honor is having you as a daughter.’_

Handong hears those tilted grounds whisper before Nannan’s meows of distress fill her ears, overloading her senses as the cat comes running her way.

“Nannan?” She questions, her voice overfilled with concern as she looks the cat’s way--sees within Nannan’s green eyes the immeasurable fear held there.

But only when Nannan springs into her lap, alight her paws on Handong’s chest as she looks deep within her owner’s eyes--does Handong see what Nannan fears.

_Sanghoon._

Who indeed was close to home.

***

Joohyun walks through the station’s main doors, the cool air from the building breezes over her smooth skin.

The atmosphere seems to suddenly shift once everyone inside takes notice of her heady presence. There’s a certain constricting feeling that seems to wrap around the building as the commissioner makes her way to her office. She looks straight ahead, not paying mind to the officers who glance her way with uncertainty laced within their eyes, and dread kept hidden inside of their hearts.

When she turns the corner leading into the hallway that her office resides in, a few officers that are scattered around the narrow hallway immediately move to the walls, keeping their eyes trained to the floor as she passes them by.

_It’s better to be feared than to be loved._

At least that’s what Joohyun reminds herself as to keeping moving forward in a place that’d rather see her stop all together.

For success is the flower in which envy tries to uproot.

She’s almost at her office’s door by the time someone bumps into her from behind.

Joohyun’s face instantly contorts into a look of annoyance as she turns her head around into the direction of the two sets of footsteps emitting from her side. Only then does she see Bora passing her by, Yoohyeon by her side who throws an apologetic look over her shoulder to Joohyun as Bora gently drags the brunette away by her wrist; disappearing from Joohyun’s sight once they pass through the corridor’s corner.

Joohyun’s heart sinks to the lowest pit in her gut as she stands seemingly frozen by her remorse.

At least Yoohyeon doesn’t hate her.

Although she wishes Bora didn’t either.

For guardianship comes at a cost, a cost that in Bora’s mind is one Joohyun can’t afford. 

Joohyun sighs softly once she closes the door to her office behind her. She takes in the room’s appearance, notes how she’s spent more time in this little office than in the walls of her own home.

She sits her things, various papers and her slick black purse down onto the grand wooden desk before walking over to the massive window that takes up the entire space on the wall beside her desk. Slivers of sunlight steeping in through the cracks in the window’s dark blinds, slightly lighting up the otherwise dark room.

Joohyun opens the blinds, instantly the warm sunlight engulfs the room. She sighs contentedly while crossing her arms over her chest, looking out to the dazzling city of Busan; the city that Joohyun has sworn to protect.

Numerous cars zoom past the window, leaving a blur of white in their wake. Joohyun watches as people go about their day, walking down the street seemingly without a care in the world, unaware of the struggles each of them go through in life.

It’s painfully unfunny how they’ve learned to accept this cruel aspect of life. How suffering is just the basics in which all living things must undergo.

It seems fair, but it doesn’t.

_Why does life need to be so unforgiving? Why must we be the ones to forgive it?_

_Have we not suffered enough?_

When does everyone get their happy ending?

Suddenly there’s a soft knock upon Joohyun’s door. 

The commissioner turns around, beckoning for whoever is behind the door to come in; to which Seungwan enters a second later.

Then Joohyun knows she lost her happy ending years ago.

“Seems like the city officials left you in one piece.” Seungwan smiles, already attempting to lighten the mood between them; for she knows just how worked up her best friend gets every time she has to sit in on a meeting with those who control every single corner of Busan. However, she can only guess how truly worked up Joohyun is this time, seeing as how that meeting was called under less than ideal circumstances.

“They already have one body that they don’t want the public to know as a muder. So I think they spared me to save more face.” Joohyun outright informs, not wanting to keep Seungwan in the dark any longer than what she did with her reasoning on keeping Bora and Yoohyeon off this case.

Seungwan steps forward, shocked. “Are you serious?” She questions despite knowing Joohyun wouldn’t lie about these things, nor would she joke about such matters.

Joohyun’s throat bobs before she ever-so-slowly nods her head, as if she too can’t believe the turnout of that fucking meeting.

“So they want to write this whole thing off then?”

“I believe so. For now we’re waiting for the autopsy results. We’ll have to see what comes out of that.” Joohyun pauses, sighing, “Then the city’s officials will go from there.”

Seungwan shakes her head, the corners of her lips dropping into a deep frown. “I was worried that’s what they’d do. Always wanting hard-proof evidence.” She sighs deeply, knowing that they have none of that.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Joohyun says, there’s resignation in her tone, as if she’s already betting on how this whole thing will turn out. That being no justice being served, left with a body of a man who lost his life due to some animal attack and not the truth which is so much more greater than what Joohyun or anyone else could even imagine.

Hopefully that autopsy will show something.

“It will all work out.” Seungwan promises despite not truly knowing what the future will bring. Joohyun looks at her, searching for the hidden implication that is displaying openly for Joohyun to see from within Seungwan’s ever-lasting sincere eyes.

The jaded commissioner realizes that Seungwan’s certainty is not only limited to this case being solved but that Bora will come back around--that Bora will forgive her one day too.

Joohyun is reminded of their talk, reminded of her confession she had breathed out over the phone to Seungwan, as if Seungwan was some pastor listening in from behind the sturdy wall of a confession booth.

It was fitting, for Joohyun has felt riddled with sin for years.

_‘They’ve been through so much already, Seungwan. I just want to protect them from what this job does to us. They’re not ready for this line of work yet….I’m not ready to see them become burned out. I can’t even stomach the thought of those two losing thier drive because some fucking killer.’_

To which Seungwan had to ask, _‘Don’t you think maybe that’s what is driving them?’_ She just had to ask. 

For she always had the ability to leave Joohun speechless, doubting herself but somehow in the kindest way possible.

A true voice of reason that Joohyun often needed when the voices of doubt sounded louder than what the truth of things ever did.

Joohyun is lucky to have Seungwan, despite how little she _truly has her._

Sooyoung is unfathomably lucky to have all of Seungwan.

In the distance pristine heels click against the smooth titles of the police station’s floor. Officers stop what they’re doing to greet the woman holding a plate full of chocolate chip cookies. Everyone smiles at her in a manner that Joohyun is envious of, for they look at this woman with genuine admiration in their eyes, and a deep respect for who she is and what she values, stored inside their hearts.

“I hope so.” Joohyun smiles, it’s too sad for Seungwan’s liking.

Seungwan takes a step forward, and for whatever reason Joohyun is reminded of that young girl who at one time didn’t want to be free, but to openly love Joohyun back.

The memory of snow falling around them, months after their graduation at KNPU.

Joohyun remembers that as the hardest winter from her youth, a time where frost had covered the landscape for as far as the eye could see. The sky had been buried underneath eerie grey clouds for what had seemed like forever since her father’s death.

Everyday from dusk to dawn a icy cold wind blew from all directions, chilling Joohyun’s heart.

The sun did not shine, and Joohyun was losing the last ray of light in her life when Seungwan had informed her that night, with snow covering their eyelashes, that in the near future she was to say goodbye. 

Seungwan was off to find warmer weather in Busan, off to climb the ranks at the police force there. Joohyun was left to remain frozen in the heart of Ulsan, left behind to dream about the day where the sun would rise again.

A time where Seungwan might love her back.

Joohyun vividly remembers how the soft snow graced the skin of Seungwan’s beautiful face, coating her in a thin layer of white that at one time used to be the most aching form of white to see on Seungwan.

(This was before Joohyun would see how painfully divine Seungwan would look in the heavenly white layers of a wedding dress years later.)

She remembers how the girl had looked at her, with hope glowing in her doleful eyes; shining at her in a manner that screamed: _If you tell me to stay, I will. If you kiss me right now, underneath all this falling snow….I’d stay with you forever._

_Just tell me that you’re in love with me too._

But Joohyun did not.

Because she was afraid.

So she let Seungwan go that night, and Joohyun let her own heart freeze underneath the snow that once coated Seungwan’s eyelashes.

Now, Joohyun’s heart is slowly thawing again.

Before it will one day melt completely.

“I’m just glad you’re not all sourpuss today.” Seungwan jokes suddenly, laughing before she continues, “Otherwise you’d be in trouble.”

Joohyun is caught off-guard, blinking once before she shakes her fondy. _Typical Seungwan._

“By who?” The commissioner plays along, reliving the feeling of youth that her interactions with Seungwan bring.

Seungwan smiles smugly, “By m-”

The sound of the door to Joohyun’s office opening up stops Seungwan mid-sentence. She glances over her shoulder. Joohyun ,equally as surprised, looks at the door too.

A second later, in all her sultry prime, enters-- _Bae Sooyoung._

Joohyun’s heart drops, shattering to the floor as she watches her younger sister’s eyes land straight on Seungwan, smiling at the snow blonde in a way that makes Joohyun’s insides boil.

Jealousy is a childish thing, this Joohyun knows. But she can’t push back the powerful tide of emotions in which it brings every time she has the misfortune of witnessing the woman she’s utterly in love with practically melt whenever Sooyoung is near, as if Seungwan is nothing more than sweet chocolate melting under Joohyun’s sister’s superlative hands. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Seungwan instantly greets her wife, feeling shocked, if not overly excited to see the sumptuous and _very successful_ real estate agent walking her way, who is keen on closing the distance between them.

“You forgot these.” Sooyoung gestures to the cookies before eagerly giving her wife a quick kiss on the lips, causing Seungwan to swoon.

Joohyun feels sick to her stomach.

“You didn’t have to bring these in!” Seungwan says, feeling somewhat bad that her wife had driven all the way out here to drop off the cookies that Seungwan herself had made last night.

Sooyoung shrugs her shoulders coolly. “I had to go out today anyways.” She pauses to breath in. Joohyun feels hot anger rising from her chest, for she knows just where her sister has been.

The images of those blue flowers flash from behind the splotches of red that are clouding up Joohyun’s vision.

“Besides I know how excited you were to share these with your co-workers. They seemed pretty riled up about it too. Do you know how many hands I had to bat away while I was trying to get here?” Sooyoung informs playfully, allowing Seungwan to take the plate of cookies out of her hands. Seungwan smiled bashfully at her wife’s complement before leaning up to press another quick kiss onto her wife’s red-tinted plump lips, to which the woman smiles into the kiss.

Joohyun clears her throat, feeling extremely pissed off by everyone seemingly acting as if she wasn't even in the room.

Seungwan tenses, clearly embarrassed. Sooyoung, however for the first time in a long time locks her alluring eyes with her sister’s stoic ones.

Something inside Joohyun’s tired soul stirs, like she’s finally waking up from this long blissful slumber; whose dreams never carried her sister’s pristine image.

As if she never had a sister at all. 

_“Unnie.”_ It’s been days, it’s been weeks, it’s been months since Joohyun has heard her sister’s voice. 

It sounds the same, Sooyoung still carries that tantalizing tone that Joohyun hates to hear.

“Sooyoung.” Joohyun addresses, not breaking the hard gaze set between them. 

For in this dreaded reunion Joohyun sees how entirely different she is from her sister--she has always noticed.

Sooyoung is statuesque, dawning such elegantly refined clothes that frame her perfect body. Perfect pricy clothes, her perfectly applied makeup that makes her look like she’s fresh off the cover of Vogue, her perfect silky long black hair that frames her sculpted facial features--everything about her is utterly magnetic. It’s no wonder how Seungwan ended up in her arms all those years ago.

Sooyoung is everything Joohyun isn’t.

Sooyoung is not a woman riddled by fear.

“It’s nice to see that you haven’t lost your voice. I thought maybe you had, seeing as to how you never gave me a call while I was away.” Sooyoung bites, although her little sister is standing perfectly still Joohyun can’t help but to see Sooyoung as a doberman lunging forward, her teeth snarling with saliva, but Sooyoung simply smiles.

She’s really getting her digs in good today.

Her own little: _It’s good to be back. It’s good to see that you’ve gone nowhere._

Joohyun feels her own lips tightening into a snarl. She wishes Barcelona would’ve swallowed Sooyoung whole.

But even then--it probably would have spit her right back out.

_Rotten. Rotten to the core._

Seungwan flinches, riddled with guilt over knowing how Joohyun had called her up every single chance she could get, but never did Joohyun ask to speak with Sooyoung.

“The phone works both ways.” Joohyun challenges, to which Sooyoung smirks.

It’s that same look she had given Joohyun all those years ago, that look she had displayed after seeing Joohyun again, once when the commissioner had graduation from KNPU.

Joohyun still can hear her little sister's words that she had uttered before Sooyoung smirked the same exact way: _Four years away and all they taught you was how to shoot a gun, huh?_

For Sooyoung had always laughed at the thought of her big sister shooting guns, but never could Joohyun pull the trigger when it came to love.

Sooyoung looks away, the corners of her lip are still curled.

Joohyun knows too well of the feeling stabbing into her heart at this moment, as if Sooyoung is carrying the ice pick; chipping away at Joohyun’s frozen heart until all that’s left is a fine layer of powder.

It’s the feeling of knowing that Sooyoung has never looked up to her like a little sibling should, like with big eyes that’d shine and words that’d trail out of little lips that would say: _I want to be like you when I grow up._

No, Sooyoung has never admired Joohyun for who she is, for she’s always seen Joohyun as a lesser thing, she has looked down on Joohyun from the moment that Sooyoung was tall enough to. 

Sooyoung had looked down on Joohyun’s dreams, and laughed.

It’s why Joohyun’s love for her sister has turned into disdain.

It’s why all that’s held between them is chiseled ice and shared blood within their icy veins.

 _“Blood is thicker than water.” - ”Fire is more powerful than ice.”_ These are sayings that Joohyun has heard throughout her life.

None of them matter though. Because two of them easily slip past the brim of Joohyun’s cupped palms. While the other two leave scalding blisters all across her heart.

All in which hurt the same.

“Regardless, it’s nice to see you again.” Sooyoung lies.

“You too.” So Joohyun does too.

Not only do they share the same blood, but the same liar's tongue that cuts down more people than it ever did bring them up. 

***

The underground gun range, located below the police station’s upper floor, is cold but lit decently, enough that the white hue from the fluorescent lights glistens off the chrome walls, coating Yoohyeon in a shade of silver as she looks down at her phone, typing a apology to her mother for not getting back to her sooner.

She never did get back around to calling her mother after Miyeon and Shuhua’s wedding. With everything going on for the last couple of days, and Yoohyeon’s sleep pattern being sort of screwed up, she had forgotten about calling her mother back.

Mina seemed busy herself these days too. It’s surprising for Yoohyeon to see that she had yet to receive a text reminding her to call; seeing as how when Mina very first called her daughter she had some exciting news to share with her before she had gotten sidetracked.

 _She’s probably busy._ Yoohyeon thinks to herself after seeing that her text had been successfully delivered but yet to be read by her mother. She pockets her phone a moment later, putting her mind at ease as she watches Bora fire off a series of rounds into one of the targets.

She hits bullseye each time.

Yoohyeon whistles lowly, always impressed by Bora’s proficiency with a gun.

Bora slides the shooting earmuffs down to the back of her neck before reloading her gun, a look of annoyance still riddling her features after bumping into Joohyun earlier.

Yoohyeon can’t help but notice the clear frustration that Bora’s feeling. She shifts in her seat, fidgeting with her cross necklace as Bora cocks back the slide of the gun.

“You okay?” Yoohyeon asks softly, treading carefully into this conversion that’s been living on the tip of Bora’s tongue rent free for days now.

Bora locks eyes with her, and Yoohyeon sees the same flames from before flickering behind Bora’s dark eyes.

A million different responses clatter against Bora’s gritted teeth, most of them being along the lines of: _I’m fine,_ or something akin to that. But maybe it’s the sheer frustration Bora is feeling or maybe it’s the fact that Yoohyeon won’t let her get away with undermining how she feels truly. Because for once Bora just comes right out with it and tells her best friend what’s on her mind, “You know who really pisses me off?” Bora pauses for good measure, Yoohyeon shifts once again in her seat, but she still listens in wholeheartedly. “ _Joohyun._ Joohyun really pisses me the fuck off.”

Yoohyeon nods absentmindedly, finally getting an inkling as to why things have been so tense around those two. She thought maybe it was just Bora being taut with tension because of their unwarranted help in this case. But after noticing the way Bora had glared at Joohyun when passing her by, with seemingly slight odium stored in Bora’s heart, Yoohyeon had learned better without even knowing what it was that Joohyun did to piss Bora off so badly.

Sure, those two have always shared a _‘unique’_ dynamic to say the very least. Joohyun yells mostly at Bora only because that girl seems to defile their commissioner’s best wishes for them, even though sometimes they don’t understand what those wishes mean. 

_At least she’s someone who wishes them well._

Joohyun has always been a precise person, and in Yoohyeon’s eyes she has seen that Joohyun works with accuracy and enforces that extra care with an iron fist when the order of things seems to go awry.

Yoohyeon can’t say she blames the woman for being a hardass sometimes, it has to be hard to be in the position she’s in; right at the top--where it’s the easiest to get knocked right off.

The most painfullest fall is often measured by how high up a person is.

Yoohyeon can only imagine what that fall would feel like for Joohyun.

That being said, Yoohyeon still understands why Bora feels the way she does. Bora works from a brash heart, thrives on doing the right thing no matter the risk, so long as justice gets served. Being at the bottom of the totem pole has never been easy either. It’s not easy to be the foundation that holds everything together, but so easily can the foundation crack due to all the pressure in which it carries. 

Bora is human.

Joohyun is human.

They’re bound to make mistakes, and piss each other off despite this line of work being all they know.

When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, all that’s left is the shattered pieces of both Joohyun and Bora’s hearts.

“Did something happen between you guys back at the gas station?” Yoohyeon asks, Bora’s shoulders instantly stiffen as the expression on her face contorts into a look that Yoohyeon can’t read.

“You could say that.”

No matter how much Yoohyeon feels like she knows every single part of Bora there is, her best friend unveils a new side of her every time that Yoohyeon chips away at the walls of Bora’s brash heart, asks for the truth to come into play because she sincerely cares about what’s going on in Bora’s world; the world she keeps hidden behind all that midnight smoke.

“What happened?”

“What always happens. Joohyun was being a _bitch._ ” Bora sighs, hating how bitter her mouth tastes after referring to Joohyun in such a way. Even Yoohyeon looks displeased over hearing Bora talk that way.

Bora looks away from her, feeling ashamed. However a part of her pride still remains intact once she sees how perfectly shot up the target in front of her is.

Yet Joohyun still doubts her abilities, it’s infuriating to be viewed as the weakest link.

“She doesn’t think that I am capable of handling myself.” Bora breathes out, to which Yoohyeon’s heart sinks to the lowest pit in her gut.

“Like I’m just some casualty waiting to happen.”

Yoohyeon’s throat bobs as she stares at her best friend’s crestfallen demeanor. Bora turns the safety on to the gun before she sets it down on the counter in front of her, resting her trembling hands on her hips as she stares off into the distance, as if she’s looking for the acceptance hidden somewhere in the white glares of the chrome walls.

“That’s why we gotta figure this shit out, Yoohyeon….So I can prove to everyone that’s ever doubted me that I’m fucking capable.” Bora’s bottom lip quivers. Then something within her breaks, “Like, I don’t know…..Don’t fucking _leave me behind_ because _I’m not good enough._ ”

 _‘My father left when I was born. It’s only been me and my mother.’_ Yoohyeon hears Bora’s confession within the remembrance of her own heart.

She understands now.

Yoohyeon rises on unsteady knees, her heavy heart weighing her down as Bora looks over to her, with unshed tears aligning the waterlines of her dark eyes.

“We’re going to figure this out, Bora.” Yoohyeon reassures, means it with every fiber of her soul as she lessens the distance between them, stopping in front of Bora before placing her hands on Bora’s weary shoulders. (The same way Yoohyeon had done this with Gahyeon all those years ago.)

“ _T_ _ogether._ We’re going to figure this shit out _together_.” Yoohyeon promises, looking deep into her best friend’s glassy eyes. She tells Bora without words: _I’ll never abandon you._ She means it too, knowing throughout her whole golden heart, that no matter how strong the wind is or how steep the mountain falls--nothing could ever truly drag her away from following Bora to the ends of the earth.

To Minji, who is still waiting.

But none of them know that, nor does Bora know she is the one who's bringing them all together, bound by fate since the day she very first laid eyes on Yoohyeon; restoring her best friend's hopeful heart.

So that Yoohyeon can revive, bring light to Minji’s own blackened heart that has been dying for so long.

“Thank you.” Bora whispers, her usual loud voice failing her as she smiles earnestly before she places her hands over Yoohyeon’s own, that still remain resting on Bora’s shoulders. She gives Yoohyeon’s dainty hands a soft squeeze, watching as the girl’s face seems to light up at the warm gesture.

The moment between them is entirely too sweet, if not somewhat aching. Because there’s so much being unpacked from their heavy souls, from Bora’s heart that must weigh a ton, loaded from all in which she keeps locked up in there.

Yoohyeon seemingly helps remove some of that weight, one by one, piece by piece; until a single tear trails out from Bora’s eye, one that she couldn’t seal away.

Knowing that the heavy moment between is threatening to crush them both into the ground, Yoohyeon smiles, dopey; in a way a person would when there’s nothing left to say before letting her hands slide off Bora’s shoulders. 

Yoohyeon takes a step back, _“Pabo.”_ She teases, in hopes that maybe their shared nickname would ease up the tension within the air, within their hearts.

Bora scoffs fondly, using the palm of her hand to wipe the tear away before smiling, shaking her head.

She looks at Yoohyeon, and sees her best friend for everything she is, a very smart and pretty girl with a beautiful soul, and so much more.

 _I love you Kim Yoohyeon._ Bora wants to say out loud, but the world seems to stop on it’s axial; making way for the forbidden apple that is bouncing up and down, heading towards the room, located within the heels of Seungwan’s happy footsteps.

A moment later the assistant chief is peeking her head through the door, smiling sheepishly as she slowly shuffles in through the door with a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hands.

“Hey!” She greets the two rookie officers, enthused. She’s pleased to finally have the free time to stop and check in on them like she has been doing for the last few days. Perhaps even a bit too much, considering everything those two have gone through in just a single day. Finding a dead body, a homicide victim; Despite witnessing their aftershock of that scene Seungwan can only imagine how her officers are truly feeling, really.

These types of things in this line of work vary for everyone, more often than not the feelings that come along with it are not pleasant, nor are they something that people can brush off easily.

Seungwan knows that with time, with experience, the stages of desensitization will set in for Bora and Yoohyeon.

However, it doesn’t give her any type of comfort in knowing that, to understand that life goes on when another one ends.

It doesn’t feel like a part of her job to accept that as part of life. Instead it feels more like a burden than anything else. A different form of wearisomeness that has shaped itself into tolerance because that’s all Seungwan can do.

If she doesn’t, if every officer or crusaders of justice stop fighting when death occurs--who would be left to fight the good fight?

Bora and Yoohyeon immediately smile sincerely at her. 

Something in Seungwan’s heart clicks.

At least those two seem in better spirits today. A major change from when Seungwan had seen Yoohyeon overcome with emotion, marked with weeping hysteria in that godawful thunderstorm, nights ago; with Bora at her side, who had looked distraught.

That was a picture that had been more painful to see than those photos that Seungwan had taken of that man’s body that night.

“How are you guys doing today?” Seungwan asks, stepping closer to the girls, whose eyes eagerly glance between the cookies and the personable assistant chief.

“Good. You?” Both of the officers say in unison, their voices sounding a bit strained if not awkward; already fearing that Seungwan is going to take one close look at them and realize something is off.

Luckily, she’s none the wiser to their sudden paranoia, nor to their grand plan that is ever-so-slowly unraveling itself right before their unknowing eyes.

“Perfect! I made some cookies last night, and I was hoping to share them with you guys!” Seungwan explains excitedly before offering the homemade baked goods over to Yoohyeon first.

Yoohyeon doesn’t hesitant to grab one of the cookies, bowing her head down as she gives her thanks to the baker.

Seungwan smiles brightly at the young woman before looking over to Bora, offering the plate to her as well.

Bora seems to hesitant, pausing as she looks into Seungwan’s warm eyes that somehow remind her of Yoohyeon’s own.

There’s this subtle moment between them, one that Yoohyeon doesn’t notice because she’s too busy practically fainting at the heavenly taste of the perfectly made treat. It’s single-handedly one of the best chocolate chip cookies she’s ever had.

Seungwan smiles earnestly, a certain sad twinkle in those warm eyes of hers that tells Bora without words: _I’m sorry._ An unsaid apology she gives due to what went down at that gas station, standing in for Joohyun who’s too proud to apologize to Bora herself.

 _You shouldn’t be the one apologizing, Seungwan._ Bora thinks dolefully, her heart squeezing from within her chest the moment that the assistant chief ever-so-slightly ease the plate forward, extending the olive branch that isn’t hers to give.

Seungwan knows that too, for she feels how wrong it is for her to be the one regretting the actions of another, of Joohyun. But she understands now why Joohyun is excluding Yoohyeon and Bora from the case. Joohyun had confessed her concerns for the two officers over a phone call; a phone call that went into the late hours of the night, despite Sooyoung’s soft protests to get Seungwan to come to bed that night.

Even though Seungwan understands Joohyun’s reasons, agrees with them even, Joohyun should’ve let Bora down a bit easier than what she had.

Now all the assistant chief can think of is Bora’s own painful confession-- _t_ _o be the black sheep in._

To feel unwanted.

_She’s just trying to protect you, Bora._

However, it brings some peace to Seungwan’s heart when Bora finally takes a cookie before thanking her, whilst the corners of Bora’s lips turn upwards; a tight-lipped smile riddling her features.

Seungwan sets the plate of cookies down, feeling a bit tired from today, _-Hell-_ from this whole week, really. But she still smiles, hoping that will bring some peace to her heart, that maybe she won’t think about how her wife and sister-in-law have been feuding with each other for years, and instead of burying the hatchet between them they’d rather keep on swinging the damn thing.

Blindly swinging, hurting not only themselves, but anyone else who stands too closely.

Seungwan knows two sides to this story, heard Sooyoung’s version, and partially witnessed Joohyun’s side. If she was to go by her wife’s version, Seungwan would say the two sisters have had a strained relationship ever since she and Sooyoung began their romantic relationship.

Sooyoung has insisted throughout the years that Joohyun didn’t approve of their marriage. However, Seungwan isn’t so sure. Joohyun did attend the wedding as her _maid of honor_ afterall. If Joohyun truly held disdain in her heart for their relationship she would have told her years ago, way before Seungwan even so much as considered Sooyoung as girlfriend material let alone wife material.

(Once again, Joohyun knows too well how to lie.)

Then there’s Joohyun’s side of the story. It goes without saying that Seungwan has seen how complicated Joohyun’s relationship is with Sooyoung. Seungwan has been at Joohyun’s side ever since middle school, that’s more than enough time to observe things throughout the years.

Yeah, maybe Sooyoung was a bit bold sometimes, never really knowing when to keep her cocky mouth shut. And yeah, maybe Joohyun was entirely too standoffish with her because of that, because of a lot of things that she still refuses to tell Seungwan about.

But that’s siblings, right?

Regardless of everything, Seungwan isn’t sure who to believe, nor does she want to pick a side in this fight that is entirely all theirs.

Not when she loves them both.

 _You can’t have your cake and eat it too._ Seungwan reminds herself, looking over to the target that Bora had shot up perfectly.

“Damn. Your aim has gotten better since I’ve been gone.” Seungwan comments, impressed. Bora feels an ounce of pride begin to swell up in her heart.

“I’ve always been a dead shot.” Bora brags playfully, earning a fond slap on the arm from Seungwan.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a real _Bora the Kid._ ”

“Careful now, Texas here might get offended.” Bora quips, glancing over to Yoohyeon who rolls her eyes in good nature.

Seungwan laughs, throwing her head back; her eyes closing in happy crescent moons.

Yoohyeon smiles. She likes her.

Something about Seungwan reminds Yoohyeon of herself, and even though they just barely know each other Yoohyeon feels surprisingly at ease every time the assistant chief is around.

Maybe that’s why she has the guts to pull the wool over Seungwan’s kind eyes, courtesy of Bora’s master plan of getting into those archives. Well, part of Bora’s plan. (Originally Bora just wanted to sneak back inside the station after hours, but Yoohyeon needed her to compromise a little. Which left Yoohyeon brainstorming this part of the plan.) 

But - _God-_ she’s going to feel extremely bad for this. 

“I’m glad you stopped down here Seungwan. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a favor.” Yoohyeon starts off, Bora slightly nods her way; signaling for her to continue as Seungwan shifts forward, interested.

“So, my little cousin has this project for school. It’s the Flat Stanley Project-” Yoohyeon shifts her tone, masking sincerity as she explains the whole made up ordeal, in hopes that this will be her and Bora’s golden ticket into those archives.

It doesn’t take much convincing for Seungwan to be completely sold on Yoohyeon’s endearing story about her little cousin wanting to send a Flat Stanley to South Korea, in the expectation that Yoohyeon will be able to print out some news articles and other things to send back to the little girl, who would share said things with her classmates.

Seungwan loves kids! How could she say no to such a cool project like that? 

“I don’t think anyone would have a problem with that. I can get you the keys and you can sort through what you need in there after your off duty for today.” The assistant chief smiles.

Yoohyeon smiles back, it hurts to lie like this; especially to Seungwan.

 _It’s for the greater good. It’s for the greater good. It’s for the greater good._ Yoohyeon has to remind herself before her good-girl conscience eats her alive.

Meanwhile Bora seems over the moon, thrilled that her plan worked. Although she feels bad about having Yoohyeon lie in order to keep the ball rolling with this whole thing, Bora knows it’s for the best.

The forbidden apple leaves the moment Seungwan does, going to the final place where the last clue rests.

It’s only a matter of time now before Yoohyeon and Bora come face to face with Minji.

Before Yoohyeon eats the forbidden fruit entirely, suffering from the knowledge of what good and evil truly is.

But for now Yoohyeon and Bora celebrate their small victories by eating the entirety of that plate of delicious cookies that Seungwan so kindly left just for them. 

***

Flames turn into ash, no matter the destruction the past still remains, kept as a reminder--seared within Minji’s brittle heart.

Destruction branded into her beloved horse’s skin, several patches of Jiupiter’s black fur tarnished forever by the unforgiving violet flames of that barn fire.

Minji brushes the horse’s dark coat, using the utmost gentleness that an angel would, for she leaves feathering touches across the deep scars that plague the horse’s back, scars that look like tarnished paint spilled across a once perfect painting.

However, Minji sees past the scars and the imperfections that somehow make Jiupiter akin to her, for Minji sees a reflection of herself, glistening back at her from within Jiupiter’s pale blue eyes.

Both of them have suffered.

Both of them have been burned by flames, ruined in the eyes of others.

Both of them have lost so much because they could not outrun the destruction of themselves.

Jiupiter is Minji’s now because the future held no use for her, deemed unfit for the life of the racetrack which burns out horses faster than what any flame ever could.

However, even if the flames had not touched the horse’s skin it would’ve only been a matter of time before Jiupiter was tossed somewhere into the unknown.

Although her career on the track had been lengthy, spanning from the age of when Jiupiter was just a two year old filly before reaching the matured age of seven now; the horse didn’t win a single race her whole career.

A damning thing for a thoroughbred, who had worked itself into submission; others would say she had been trained for the line of work--Minji would say Jiupiter was beaten into it, for Minji knows too many secrets that the world tries to keep hidden in the darkest corners. 

She has lived long enough to see that what is done in the dark will be brought to the light.

She wonders how much Jiupiter has suffered. Losing horses have never had that red carpet rolled out for them, nor do people have the patience to spend their blood money on something that gains them nothing.

But Minji isn’t like other people.

For Minji had always betted on losing horses, in the hopes that they’d somehow know there was someone who thought they could’ve won.

Minji’s delicate hand strokes down on the horse's face, while she looks at how beautiful Jiupiter’s white-bald marking is. It’s the only splash of color the horse has, otherwise she’d be coated in darkness besides the deep grey outlining that frames her white face marking, making her pale blue eyes stand out because the grey fur is embroidered around the shapes of her eyes.

Minji looks deep within the Jiupiter’s eyes, sees so much pain from the past laced underneath those shades of crystallized blues. Yet the horse pushes into Minji’s hand, relishing the touch from fingertips that do not bring harm, but leave soft patterns of unconditional love.

 _“If one day we are apart from each other._ Minji’s angelic voice comes out in the form of a song, she sings with so much grace, so much beauty, so much heartache that the barn swallows, who are chirping happily up in the wooden beams of the barn, stop instantly before looking down at her, enthralled by her grief that she somehow makes beautiful.

And if angels are truly real, even they too listen to the broken-hearted woman; wrapping their pearl coated wings around the land that Piri Hills sits upon, protecting Minji just this once from the evil within the world that has ruined her, from what they’ve never protected her from before--the corruption of her own heart.

_“Please know that I cherish you.”_

The barn swallows listen on, sadness filling their own hearts as they look down at Minji with indescribable pity glowing, without a shine, in their dark eyes.

Unbeknownst to all things within the barn, footsteps drawl near, for they too are captivated by Minji’s enchanting voice. 

_“When I sit down facing you at your gaze.”_ Minji pauses, humming softly, _“I melt down.”_

Minji sings with the hope that one day Jiupiter’s pain will melt away--that _her own pain_ will melt alongside the bitter past, and that one day soon they’ll both be okay again. 

_“Every every little things, is so precious.”_ Minji draws out her soft hum, resting her forehead against Jiupiter’s own before humming one final time.

The angels’ wings lift, revealing Handong standing breathlessly at the entryway of the barn, holding Nannan in her arms, as her heart dies for Minji.

Handong wishes that she could’ve had a better time to do this.

But there is no time on earth where Minji would be ready for this moment. 

Minji leans down to place a soft kiss on the horse’s velvety muzzle before leaning back, quickly noticing Handong moving ever-so-slowly towards her, as if the weight of the world is resting upon her shoulders; weighing her down until-

“The smokehouse.” Handong utters, her tone entirely too low--soft even.

For the first time since Minji has known Handong she sees this look of sheer seriousness contorting the chinese woman’s elegant features. It feels unnatural, insomuch that the barn swallows start to stir around above them, alarmed. Even Jiupiter’s eyes widen as she paws at the ground, panicking.

For it is as if they too have foreseen Minji’s final song. A song that she screamed out in torment from inside of her heart for _weeks_ , branded it’s lyrics of ungodly fury into the torn seams of her undying heart for _years._

Minji doesn’t break her hard stare with Handong, not even as the ground feels like it’s almost shaking underneath all of them, vibrating from the powerful sorrow kept within Minji’s heart. 

Jiupiter lets out this loud vocal trumpet, a disturbing sound of fear; as if she already had heard Handong’s next words.

“Sanghoon is in the smokehouse.”

The brush held within Minji’s hand immediately falls to the floor, it’s sound of collision ringing throughout the barn as the birds flee from the wooden beams, letting out this piercing call of danger.

_Sanghoon is going to die._

For he will die underneath Minji’s trembling hands.

***

**My Joy**

|Can’t wait to see you when you get home. I’ve been missing you since I left the station.|

[Seen Sat at 9:32 PM]

Seungwan smiles upon reading her wife’s text message, whilst this pleasant warm feeling from within her stomach goes haywire, sparking up flickers of familiar flames; for even after years of being together Seungwan still gets butterflies in her belly whenever her wife is around or shows her unwavering endearment in the simplest of ways.

It’s one of the reasons that Seungwan fell in love with Sooyoung in the first place, for that woman never leaves her guessing.

The assistant chief is quick to slip on her jacket, feeling giddy, like some school girl with an unbelievably fat crush. It’s silly, really. But Seungwan doesn’t care, not when all she wants right now is to race home into her wife’s awaiting arms and to have Sooyoung hold her until they both fall asleep peacefully.

After today, after this whole week, Seungwan really needs that proper reminder that despite all the bad things in the world there is still love which will always outweigh the bad in the scale of things.

However, there will also always be something that tips the scale.

Seungwan isn’t reminded of that weight yet. 

She passes through the white corridor, passes by Joohyun’s office. The assistant chief notices that her commissioner’s lights are off, not even so much as a hint of light, that usually comes from Joohyun’s office desk, steeping underneath the crack of the door.

The corners of Seungwan’s lips drop into a frown. She figures Joohyun must have wrapped things up early for today. She probably opted to leave on time despite more often than not staying after hours.

That woman works too much, too hard.

While the assistant chief is glad that her boss left early, hopefully using that extra time to gain some more sleep, Seungwan can’t help but to feel a bit disappointed that Joohyun didn’t say her usual goodbye to her.

Although after today Seungwan can’t blame her, really.

Seungwan continues her journey to the building’s exit while trying to ignore how guilty she feels about her wife dropping by the station unannounced; hating how her mind instantly replays the stone-like smile Joohyun had forced upon her own lips after bidding Sooyoung farewell once her younger sister had enough of standing around in the station’s chilly rooms, had enough of subtly twisting this knife of jealousy into her older sister’s side.

Seungwan doesn’t know of the last part.

Maybe the assistant chief had been foolish, Seungwan would say hopeful; that when she and Sooyoung finally came back home to South Korea after months of being away, maybe just maybe their absence had made Joohyun’s heart grow fonder; that maybe Joohyun would’ve taken that first look at her younger sister and something would’ve clicked in her heart, a realization that time is so very precious. Too precious to keep dragging this unbearable heavy chain of clash around. 

It’s not even Seungwan’s battle, not even her chain to get wrapped up in. Yet she still feels her heart being locked around the middle, this strong iron cuff squeezing the life out of her.

There is a key to unlock it.

But Sooyoung and Joohyun would rather fight over it than to let Seungwan’s heart be free.

Seungwan sighs before allowing her mind to switch the subject. She’d rather be thinking about her lengthy time away from all the heartache and stress that still lies awake inside her soul.

Said stress being one of the biggest reasons as to why she had taken so much time off of work. At the time she needed to go somewhere else, so desperately needing a change of scenery. Otherwise Seungwan was worried that one day while driving to work she’d just pass the station right by, just keep on driving until her car ran out of gas.

However, there’s only so many places that these roads in South Korea led to. Seungwan has seen almost all of them.

But Barcelona was different.

Barcelona had everything.

From Gaudi to Messi, towering architecture, to towers built of people visiting the sea, to gorging on the fresh produce.

A city that seamlessly melds the medievally old with the most modern spectacles.

Seungwan had drank blessed wine from Santa Maria del Mar, the cathedral of the sea. She had dined on several insanely good meals sold from food trucks within the Palo Market Fest. She had the pleasure of viewing Picasso’s paintings in white studios that illuminate his works within the Picasso Museum.

She had shared plenty of passionate kisses with her wife underneath the dark crystallized skies, as they laid down, holding each other, on the warm sands of Barcelona’s endless shorelines.

They both had listened to strangers tell stories of love that lasted forever, outshining the more frightening tales of people who terrorized the narrow streets of the Raval neighbourhood.

The tales, the myths of those who drink human blood.

As chilling as those stories had been, Seungwan would rather hear the locals theatrical story-telling than to be currently trying to come up with a resolution as to what that poor man had suffered back at that gas station.

It’s her own _hell_ of a story, and she’s fairly certain that all she wants is to close this chapter before this story can even so much as get started.

Despite throwing her problems in the sea back at Barcelona, (Something Sooyoung had encouraged them both to do. By writing every single painful memory, every goal not taken, every dream gave up, every desire burned out, and every love lost, on a scrap of paper before tossing it into the sea, letting the waves dissolve their papers into nothing, hoping that their pain too would be taken by the tide.) Seungwan can’t help but to let new ones arise, to burn so unfathomably hot inside her heart that the steam in which her heart releases, fuels her drive to get back into work.

Like dark coal pouring into the scorching flames of a train's engine, Seungwan feels herself moving forward.

However, she wishes Barcelona could’ve had that _thing_ , that _feeling_ , whatever it truly is, that could’ve restored a part of herself.

A part of her soul that she had lost somewhere underneath that Winter’s powerful bittersweet snow all those years ago.

The assistant chief is nearly out of the building before her attention is stolen by the small ray of light seeping out from the cracked door to the archives. She heads in the direction of the room, opting to say her farewell to Yoohyeon for the night before seeing the girl again tomorrow for yet another long day of hard work.

Seungwan carefully pushes the door open so as to not scare the officer inside. Upon entering the archives, the room being just a bit bigger than Joohyun’s office, Seungwan notices Yoohyeon sitting down Indian-style on the floor, a few of the many archives brown cardboard bins are scattered around her, various paperwork shuffled neatly in front of her as she looks up at the assistant chief, a genuine smile spreading across her lips.

“Hey.” Yoohyeon greets the other woman warmly, her brown eyes glistening underneath the soft yellow glow of the archive's light. 

“Hey. I’m just stopping by to say goodnight.” Seungwan smiles, just as warm; totally unaware that there’s another person in this room besides her and Yoohyeon.

Whose throat is feeling extremely scratchy right about now.

“You on tomorrow?” Yoohyeon questions, she’s doing her best to appear normal. Despite internally freaking out right now. _-God-_ Bora had better parked Siyeon out of sight, otherwise they're both done for. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow when you come in. Just make sure to lock everything up before you leave tonight, okay?”

“Will do.” Yoohyeon says, nodding her head firmly for good measure before Seungwan turns on her heel, leaving right as-

_*Cough*_

“I’m sorry?” The snow blonde turns around, looking confused as Yoohyeon stares back at her like a deer caught in headlights.

“What?” The officer asks, deadpan.

Seungwan’s eyebrows quickly furrow together as she looks at the girl for a moment much too long for Yoohyeon’s liking. “I thought you said something else?” She asks, unsure. 

“I did not.” Yoohyeon replies kind of unnaturally.

Bora facepalms herself from behind one of the large industrial steel bookcases.

“My bad.” Seungwan gives Yoohyeon one last side eye, to which the girl smiles way too wide at, Yoohyeon’s delicate lips are tight-lipped but her cheeks are round as buttons, before she leaves the officer to her own devices.

Seungwan trusts Yoohyeon enough to not suspect her of foul play.

Only when Yoohyeon breathes a sigh of relief after knowing for sure that the assistant chief is out of earshot does Bora come walking out from behind the bookcase.

 _“I did not.”_ Bora mocks, snickering once Yoohyeon shoots her a dirty look.

“Whatever. You and your dry-ass-throat almost got us busted.”

“But it didn’t, did it?” Bora counters lamely as she sinks down to Yoohyeon’s level before plopping down on the floor. “We’re going to be here all night.” She states matter-of-factly, whilst looking around at all the bins they have to sort through, endless amounts of papers just to maybe stumble upon that article with Minji in it.

Yoohyeon nods, agreeing. But she still looks optimistic. “This is where the process of elimination comes in.”

Bora groans loudly, like some spoiled little child.

Yoohyeon pays her mind. She’s learned how to block these types of things out after growing up with Gahyeon--there’s not much protesting that Bora can do that would bother the other girl. 

“I think we should set our starting point back by nine years, then keep going forward from there.” Yoohyeon suggests, moving one of the bins to settle between them. Yoohyeon hasn’t kept up with horse racing in a very long time, but nine years seems like a good starting point, seeing as how that would make Kim Minji eighteen, thus old enough to purchase a horse off the track.

 _Nine years!?!_ Bora falls backwards, just to be dramatic, as Yoohyeon rummages through the papers, unbothered.

“I still think it would be easier to just storm the castle than to go through all this trouble just to see some woman’s face.” Bora comments, whiny. Despite knowing they’re digging for more answers as to who Kim Minji is and not what she looks like.

“I think we’d end up on Kim Minji’s doorstep a whole lot sooner if you put as much effort into this as you do running your mouth.” Yoohyeon quips smugly, grabbing a stack of papers to hover over Bora’s body, to which the officer rises, quickly snatching the papers out of Yoohyeon’s hands without saying a single word. Well, other than grumbling something incoherent, but that’s normal for Bora.

“Thank you.”

Bora doesn’t say anything. Instead she focuses all her energy on sorting through this stack of papers, looking irritated.

But as Yoohyeon looks at her, smiling as she watches Bora’s eyes trail over various headlines before tossing the papers aside, she knows Bora isn’t irritated at all.

Even as Yoohyeon looks away, beginning to start on her own work, she can feel the corners of Bora’s lips curling into a smile, causing Yoohyeon to smile too.

There’s no one on this earth that Yoohyeon would rather be solving a murder case with. There’s no one on this earth she’d rather have the honor of calling them her best friend.

There’s no one on this earth that Yoohyeon would rather be with, for no one can ever replace what she has with Bora.

 _I love you Kim Bora._ Yoohyeon doesn’t say those words out loud, only because she knows Bora had felt her say them without her even so much as uttering a single word.

***

Joohyun has to wait until she’s home, somewhere quiet, somewhere hidden, until she allows herself to cry. Not knowing how much patience it takes for someone to do that. 

Not knowing how much patience it took for Seungwan to wait and finally see her again after returning from Barcelona.

Not knowing how much patience it took for Sooyoung to even so much as be in the same room with her today without nearly biting her head off.

Not knowing how much patience it’s taking for Yoohyeon and Bora to sort through papers stacked on top of papers.

Not knowing how much patience Handong holds for Minji, in order to be able to listen to the other woman’s screams of anger as she shatters half of their dining ware against her own grand kitchen’s walls.

Not knowing how much patience Minji forces herself to have, to wait until morning to have Sanghoon pulled from his hiding spot.

Not knowing how much patience Sanghoon wastes on waiting for forgiveness that will not come to him.

.

When Joohyun arrives home, enters her quiet apartment, the first thing she does is take her shoes off, then her jacket, then she hangs her keys up.

After that she gathers up clean sleeping wear before heading to take a shower.

She uses the same mint tea tree shampoo and conditioner that she always uses, closing her eyes so that the soap doesn’t sting her already burning eyes.

After her shower she brushes her teeth, does her nightly face care routine before shutting the bathroom lights off, and heading to her room.

It’s all the same routine, if Joohyun didn’t know any better, or maybe if she would look close enough, she’d see the same pattern in how she walks, how she lives; doing the same thing _over_ and _over_ \--living the same day _over_ and _over._

Joohyun knows that in life there are choices she can make. That she can either remove her shoes so that she doesn’t leave these marks embedded into the ground, embedded into others hearts; so that she doesn’t keep making these same regrettable mistakes over and over again--or that she can choose to scrub the floor, in futile attempts to wash away the past, to ease mistakes that cannot be removed.

Only when Joohyun sits on the edge of her bed, taking in one single deep breath, does she allow herself to cry silently; matching the walls of her home. For there is nothing but utter stillness here.

But Joohyun softly shakes, trembling as she weeps into her hand. Each tear she sheds is a tear shed over something in which she’s kept buried deep within her heart.

A tear she sheds for the loss of that man, who will never see his family again. He’ll never enjoy another day in this world that takes away more than it ever did give back.

A tear she sheds for Yoohyeon, who still smiles so brightly, as if there wasn’t a cloud of shadows threatening to swallow her whole--as if life’s hardships are worth the struggle to see the light at the end of this very unfathomably deep dark tunnel.

A tear she sheds for Bora, who all Joohyun wants is to protect, to protect her passionate drive, her undying determination--to protect Bora from becoming just like _her._

A tear she sheds for her own father. Because even after thirteen years, Joohyun has yet to stop missing him--missing out on what she could’ve been to him.

A tear she sheds for Sooyoung, for what she could’ve been--for what bond that might’ve had if things played out differently in their lives.

Multiple tears she sheds for Seungwan, for Joohyun has always cried for her; weeping for the day when the sun would rise again.

Joohyun cries until she cannot cry anymore, until her body is riddled with weakness, and her eyes colored red; burning in ache.

She inhales a breath of air before crawling into her bed covers that somehow don’t feel so warm, nor comforting. For they feel heavy on her seemingly limp body, as if she’s suffocating underneath them, drowning beneath the flood of her spilled tears.

_Good._

Joohyun reminds herself that after today, this moment of weakness was nothing more than exhaustion. That tomorrow is a new day, and that she can’t have the weight of yesterday holding her back.

She stares aimlessly into the darkness within her room, not even so much as the moon’s soft ray of light shining in on her. 

_It’s deserving to be kept in the dark._

Perhaps it is belonging, to be left all alone.

Joohyun listens to her own tired heartbeat, counting the measures between each beat, letting herself drift off into a slumber that feels far from resting.

Off to the side, on Joohyun’s bedside table, her phone’s blue light shines brightly, illuminating the dark room for just a moment to alert the sleeping woman that someone had just texted her.

**Bae Seungwan**

|I just wanted to tell you goodnight...and that I’m sorry about today. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I hope you have sweet dreams.|

|Delivered|

Despite Seungwan’s best wishes, Joohyun does not have sweet dreams that night.

Because every time that Joohyun dreams of _her_ it is not a sweet thing. No, for it is a painful reminder that Seungwan will never be hers.

That the sun will never rise again.

***

The sun is barely just rising as Handong arrives at the treeline that comes to a stop to allow a small, but spacious spot for the aged smokehouse to rest at. It’s a relic at this point, unknown to most people, lost to the sleeping forest and the heavy layers of fog that conceal the land. Although the mist is seemingly unmoving it somehow stirs restlessly, moving slowly across the scenery that is painted in dull shades of whites and grey, as if life no longer lives here; devouring the forest in all it’s unsustainable hunger.

How fitting for Sanghoon to hide in a place that shows no shades to him, a lifeless painting that he has framed himself in, senselessly.

A perfect place for those afraid of being found, the ideal land for an exile, for a coward who has been hiding for much too long.

As much as Handong has always loved a good game of hide and seek, this round should have ended long ago, when the first drop of blood was carelessly consumed by him.

She eases forward, stalking, feeling the loosen dirt from the ground tremble beneath her light feet. She feels the call to hunt, hears it in every breeze that ghosts over the leaves of the trees.

The baby hairs on the nape of her neck rise slowly with each step that she is closer to the smokehouse.

He is in there--she can _feel him._

Once she’s an arm’s length away from the door, she can faintly smell a hint of iron before her senses are overwhelmed with the smell of regret, dread, _a waiting for inevitable._

Handong could easily rip the door off of it’s iron hinges and pitch it aside like it’s nothing more than a dart.

But she doesn’t.

She purposely chooses to open the door in well mannered behavior, smiling as what little bit of ray from the covered sun shines in on the poorly lit room; revealing Sanghoon sitting in a fetal position, his head down; his eyes shielded into his knees as he holds his dark hair into his aged hands.

Handong waits until his swollen eyes, from crying; evident from the dry tear streaks on his face, look up at her. Only then does she smile friendly, her chest heaving in expulsion.

“Dongie?” He questions, his eyes squinting as he searches for recognition in a woman who isn’t so different from him, but is; searches for another chance that he will not receive.

However, Handong isn’t the judge. Not when Minji demands to have her court be filled, to have ruled her final and only punishment on Sanghoon; to show the full extent of her hellish wrath to Handong, who has always been just the spectator.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been looking for you.” She tells him as if he hadn’t had the slightest clue. But he knows...Oh he knows.

It’s been weeks since he went on his final binder, weeks since he has seen Handong...and Minji.

He had wished that things would be different, that perhaps Handong and Minji would lay their piercing eyes upon him and see that he too was suffering from this change; turned against his better judgement--ruined by blinding attachment.

He loved Minji, loved her as if she was his own daughter.

But his fear was stronger than his love, for it always had been.

Now, he sits petrified; his empty stomach growling.

They said the hunger lessened with age, but as time had gone on all it did for Sanghoon was starve him; all bones and brittle, clawing at the next table scrap in order to get by. Truthfully he had the same amount of dinner as everyone else did, but it was never enough.

Why was it never enough?

Why has Minji forsaken him?

“You have two choices here, Sanghoon.” Handong steps forward, tilting her to the side before stopping, “You can either make this easy and come quietly...or we can see if there’s a lick of courage in you somewhere.” She alludes, smiling.

There’s a heavy pause between them.

Sanghoon, for once in his life, chooses to be brave.

In one swift moment he rushes her.

Handong wasn’t anticipating the latter. She didn’t have enough time to brace herself before Sanghoon tackles roughly into her, using his sharp elbow to collide against her gut painfully as his strong arms wrap around her back before using all of his weight to send them crashing against the ground, causing them to slide wickedly against the dirt, tilting up the ground below them in a deep incision. 

Somewhere halfway through the slide, Sanghoon lunges at Handong’s face, his sharp fangs flashing white and dripping with thick saliva as Handong uses the palms of her hands to push his face away; only when the both of them come at a halt against the dirt does she use that slow momentum to shield herself from Sanghoon’s relentless attacks, using her left forearm to hold him back before using the right side of her first to hit Sanghoon directly on his temple, briefly rendering him dazed; giving Handong enough time to grab him by his throat before flinging him off of her, over to the side.

He skids against the dirt, cutting his hands on stones as he claws at the ground to regain his balance; his rolls on his back, turning upwards as his hand clinches into the dirt; mud and blood caked underneath his fingernails.

He looks up, sees Handong staring back at him, her eyes changed into her true monstrous ones, thick dark veins protruding around her monstrous eyes, inking down to the corners of her delicate lips that smile-- that show her own sharp fangs.

Sanghoon shakes in fear, perhaps even adrenaline as he has no choice but to keep fighting, despite knowing he won’t win this fight.

But he has to try…..For he isn’t ready to die, to finally die; to experience a slumber that he does not know if it holds dreams that are good, or nightmares that are worse than living one for the last hundreds of years--or does it hold nothing at all?

Empty like his stomach?

To the human eye Sanghoon’s sprinting form would be unseeable, but to Handong’s eyes, that are far from being mortal, she sees Sanghoon running her way; braces herself this time--even so much as bolting into the distance between them; only to grab his neck once again as Handong quickly phases their body to move towards a tree, colliding Sanghoon against it. The hard bark from the tree shatters and breaks upon impact, sending splinters and pieces of the wood into Sanghoon’s back as he hisses in pain before Handong slams his head against the ruined bark once more. His temple bleeds, oozing out shades of crimson. 

_Fitting._

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Sanghoon snarls through gritted teeth, his head pounding in pain, yet he can still hear the cries of birds awaking from their nest before flying off into the sky; away from danger.

Handong chuckles, her eyes shining with amusement before something shifts upon her unearthly beauty, a look of pity.

“It’s sad that you think you’re able to.” She squeezes his throat, watches as his pathetic blood rolls down the side of his worn face.

Although she has no ties to him, no deep harboring feelings for the man that Minji had once endeared, Handong can’t help but to feel a sting of remorse, pity, whatever this feeling is that is awakening from within her chest.

It’s a shame it had to come to this.

Sanghoon’s face contorts into a look of sheer desperation, and like most men when brought face to face with despair his actions become rash. He uses the side of right forearm to hit Handong against her jaw, causing her to release him before she steps backwards, dazed. He uses that moment to kick her square in the chest; sending her flying backwards before she collides with a tree.

The impact was so powerful, it had emitted a sound that’s akin to thunder.

He then sharply turns on his heel before bolting, sprinting through the vast forest in an attempt to save his life. It’s the only real shot he has of making it out of here alive. 

Handong is far too strong, far too fast.

Sanghoon doesn’t even so much as look back. The heavy fog is already making it difficult for him to see, he blindly maneuvers through the obstacles of the forest, fear enhancing his will to survive.

But the more he runs..the more hopeless he feels.

Because somewhere in the fog, he swears he sees Minji’s image, images of her as only a little girl, begging to be picked up, to be carried around on his hip as he sings her a soothing lullaby; hoping that when she sleeps her dreams are sweet. 

_Sanghoon-ah~_

He hears the trembling leaves of the trees tell him, only in Minji’s sweet voice. He hasn’t heard that tone in forever.

_Sanghoon-ah~_

It brings tears, that burn like acid, to his eyes. For it reminds him of a painful regret that he’ll never forgive himself for, nor would he ever be forgiven by Minji.

_Sanghoon-ah…..Why did you let him hurt me?_

He stops dead in tracks, circling frantically around to search for Minji’s images that are no longer in the fog, nor is her voice echoing in the dead quiet woods.

He clutches at his heart, that does not beat any longer, yet it still feels the same as all those do that hold a heart. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, broken.

The forest trembles.

A second later Handong is grabbing onto the back of his shirt collar, twisting the fabric into her hands before quickly holstering him up in the air, over her shoulder, slamming him into the ground below.

Several of his bones snap and pop due to the impact, suffering in unbearable pain before he cries out, screams into the woods as squirms around in the indent that his body had made in the ground after being slammed into it.

Handong ever-so-slowly walks his way, closing the small distance between them as she shuffles around in the inside pocket of her jacket. “If I could do you one favor, I’d kill you right now.” She confesses, her tone breathy, but steeled.

There’s a pause.

Handong aligns the sight of the Smith & Wesson 500, one of the few guns powerful enough to subdue their kind, so long as the bullets are coated in the water that burns their skin; at Sanghoon’s breastplate, however, not the side where his heart is.

Sanghoon locks eyes with her down the barrel of the gun.

“But Minji needs you one last time.”

Handong pulls the trigger a moment later, having allowed Sanghoon enough time to shed a single tear from out of his swollen eyes.

***

The heavy fog is still rolling, coating the city of Seoul, concealing what is about to take place down among the edges of the Han river.

This is what Minji had waited for, had demanded that they both wait for.

Now the time has finally come.

Handong drags Sanghoon’s broken body along without any effort, even as the man weakly claws at the ground, pulls handfuls of grass out from the dirt in a futile attempt to prolong his death.

He softly groans in pain as Handong drags him down a hidden trail, unknown to most people. It’s concealed from the public’s general viewing, and besides most tend to stick to the busier more crowded areas of the Han river when visiting.

But since it’s so early in the morning, and this heavy fog is masking almost everything in it’s blighted shades of grey, no one is here.

_Other than the three of them._

As Handong ducks underneath a lowly hanging tree branch, Sanghoon can hear the faint crackling of flames, little flickers of amber sizzling; telling him: _The end is near._

Moments later they come to a halt, and Sanghoon rests his heavy head against the ground, relishes the feeling of the soft blades of green grass tickling his ice cold skin, one last time before Handong tosses him forward, like nothing more than a pebble to be thrown until the river. 

Soon he will be nothing more than blackened ash to be spread across the river, flowing down the current for one final journey before suffering to the unknown.

He lies on his back, unable to move due to not only several broken bones but the bullet still lodged into his flesh, the blessed water still boiling his blood. Ever-so-slightly he tilts his head backwards to gaze into the sun that is hidden behind the clouds.

There is beauty in the unknown.

As there is a bright light behind all that is unseeable.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a bright light waiting for him at the end of all these.

_Or am I to suffer more?_

Only when Sanghoon hears the soft sound of heels slowly stepping forward, lifelessly against the grass does he look over.

He sees his beloved child’s silhouette moving towards him in the fog. His exhausted heart ticks away painfully from within his chest, resembling that of the moment when opening a gift; tearing the paper strip by strip.

Until finally the gift is revealed, until Minji steps through the wall of fog before she instantly locks her dark obsidian eyes with Sanghoon pathetic swollen ones.

_Finally._

Something rattles awake from within Minji’s burning heart when she sees how utterly broken the man is, reduced to nothing as he lies twitching in pain; staring into her eyes with his own that somehow still holds everything in them.

Somehow he still looks at her as if she is everything.

As if he still cherishes her…. _loves her._

In that realization Minji feels her ungodly rage go completely still, a moment it gives for her to look deep within herself and find the part of herself that did not get changed on the night of her ascension. To find that part of herself that is still unfathomably human, that is still wholeheartedly her.

The Minji that used to sing along with Sanghoon, as if the lives they were destined to live held more than all the sorrow they’ve ever been given.

The Minji that refused to pick flowers because she had believed that their lives were worth more than their beauty that was created to keep displayed somewhere along the house, only for them to wilt once their glamour was not looked upon any longer.

The Minji that loved the sound of children’s laughter because it reminded her that not every child has their innocence stolen.

The Minji that held a pure heart, that put others' needs before her own.

The Minji that hadn’t been shaped, broken, rebranded into her uncle’s ideal woman. The woman that she is now, a woman who carries an undying heart that holds no respect, no love, no hope for the world that has time and time again done nothing but disappoint her.

Maybe it’s the mist brushing against her cool skin, or even the light breeze of the morning’s air, but regardless of which it is--to Minji it feels like her uncle's bruising hands ghosting over her body, his dead-like breath hitting against the side of her neck in that blighted smokehouse.

She trembles, shaking with so much force it’s a wonder that ground doesn’t split open underneath them all.

Her rage goes rampant again.

The second she blinks she loses the moment, the harrowing chance to feel whole again; _to be Minji again._

For the first time in forever, the corners of Handong’s delicate lips drop as she watches Minji phase forward, grabbing Sanghoon by his throat as she lifts him into the air; pure ungodly rage contorts her beautiful features.

“ _M-Minji_.” Sanghoon wheezes, looking at her to find that recognition.

To see the love that Minji had held in her heart for him.

He no longer sees it.

Because the Minji he sees is another woman entirely, a woman ruined by men, ruined by his own brother--a woman layered so deeply in grief that even the anger flaring behind her eyes is not the stronger feeling of the two.

Minji says nothing, her eyes flickering into their true form as dark veins rise upon her skin, making her porcelain face look riddled with cracks. She lunges forward, her sharp fangs piercing into the side of Sanghoon’s neck, his cold blood filling her mouth. He screams in pain, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes as Minji rips a chuck of flesh out from the side of his neck before spitting it out of her teeth and off to the side, disgusted.

“Heir-” Sanghoon attempts to speak, to plead with Minji, only to receive a brutal punch to the face, causing him to see flashes of white, followed by loud ringing in his ears before Minji tosses him aside, as if he was nothing more than a dirty dishrag to be thrown away. 

He falls at Handong’s feet, looking up to her in a silent plea that screams to her: _Please….help me._

But she cannot, this was never her battle of thine heart.

This is Minji’s, and Minji’s alone.

Handong takes a step back, the heavy fog masking her bounty of emotions, as Minji takes a step forward towards Sanghoon.

“You've ran for so long, and kept yourself hidden in the darkest corners that you found. After creating death on such a scale, hearing the call for blood, surrendering to it. Nothing has changed for you, Sanghoon.” Minji finally speaks, her tone seething with anger, contempt, and somewhere hidden, sadness.

The reality is Sanghoon must die, his actions, have no doubt, left more fledglings to run amok in the city, and now have caused the higher authorities of Busan to take close notice of who exactly is roaming around their city.

 _Their entire existence_ threatened over a man who she never should’ve given a second chance. 

“And now you’ve let the call corrupt me...destroy all I have, and for what?” She asks him, but there’s more to that question then just the call of hunger.

There’s a hidden implication in there, one that Minji has longed to ask him, but never did because that would have meant their relationship would have changed--that the truth would’ve destroyed her more than what living a lie did.

But now at the end of the road, living for as long as she has; forced to sit back and watch the seasons change and gain the knowledge that the world, no matter how long it keeps spinning on its crooked axial, will never get any better.

She goes as far to wonder if the world was ever a good thing to begin with? Did it ever, or will it ever carry something that is entirely too good?

Somewhere in the distance Yoohyeon fidgets with her cross necklace, she’s just one more newspaper away from finally seeing the article she and Bora have been hunting for.

“For years I sought to understand why you let your brother do what he did. I wanted to know why you’d consoled me after beatings..after all I endured in his care. But never did you once step in to stop it.” Minji confesses as she stands over Sanghoon, looking down on him with no emotion in her eyes, yet a series of tears spills down from her waterlines; stealing Sanghoon’s breath away as he wishes that somehow he could've changed the past. 

He wishes he had been braver, brave enough to not let his own brother do the things he had done to Minji.

_To his much beloved niece._

“I wanted to know why you never protected me….But I see what happened now.” Minji crouches down to his level. A sob escapes Sanghoon’s throat as he witnesses the unbelievable sorrow that has taken its reign across Minji’s beautiful features. 

The sound of the fire crackling is very near, Sanghoon can clearly see the large flames flickering in the background behind Minji’s hazy silhouette; beckoning him for his final burning rest.

Maybe after all this is said and done-- maybe they all can finally sleep peacefully.

That Minji will finally dream of something sweet.

“It is because you were afraid.”

So Minji finally understands.

Now she can put an end to this.

Minji’s hands ever-so-slowly rise to cup the sides of Sanghoon’s face. She uses the smooth pad of her thumbs to brush away the tears falling from Sanghoon’s eyes, and although they’re almost swollen shut due to the damage she and Handong had inflicted on him, somehow Minji still sees resignation in his eyes, as if he has accepted his fate.

Another part of herself, of whoever she is now, dies inside.

In that moment Sanghoon tries to whisper his final, most sincere apology to his niece, whom he had loved as his own child, but the second that the first syllable leaves his mouth--Minji rips his head clean off his body before tossing it into the fire.

Handong steps through the misty barrier the moment that Minji starts ripping Sanghoon apart, an endless amount of tears streaming down her face as she screams out in pure anguish.

Handong does not smile, nor does she find the humor in the sight before her. It’s painfully unfunny, down right heart-aching to watch Minji toss Sanghoon’s remains in those flames as she screams, as if she too is dying.

With her all too knowing eyes, Handong watches as Minji falls to her knees, ripping up handfuls of grass to throw them over her shoulders.

Minji is screaming, crying so incoherently, Handong swears it’s like Minji is crying in tongues; asking the heavens above: _Why?_

But never does she get an answer.

Handong somehow knows that Minji hopes that once Sanghoon’s body turns to ash--the painful memories, the horrid experiences with her uncle, his brother, will also be reduced to nothing more than just ash.

That maybe now the regret of what she has done will be stronger than the past, who regrets nothing.

***

Bora is falling asleep while sorting through even more of these godforsaken papers. She’s just grabbing the papers and setting them to the side, not really even looking, for her eyes are half-lidded and her head keeps sinking to chest.

After several hours of doing something that by all means shouldn’t be so draining.

Bora is _really-fucking-tired._

Yoohyeon’s whole _process of elimination_ proved to be more of that process eliminating _them_ than anything else.

Even Yoohyeon is yawning up a storm, whilst trying to keep her own tired eyes peeled open for that barn fire/who-the-hell-is-Minji article. However, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t doubting the article’s existence.

Especially now, given that the time is fifteen minutes past five in the morning, and Bora is looking as if she might pass out at any given moment.

They’ve been at this for hours.

As much as Yoohyeon hates calling it quits, considering she hasn’t given up on a single thing in her whole entire life, it’s something that’s got to be done.

They can’t stay here for much longer. The day-shift crew will be coming in very shortly, so that means her and Bora got to tidy up before leaving empty-handed. Plus, Yoohyeon Isn't going to let Bora suffer anymore than she has.

God bless that woman’s heart for doing all she has already.

 _One more and I’m calling it quits._ Yoohyeon sighs, reaching the final newspaper at the bottom of the bin It doesn’t look very promising, and Yoohyeon honestly has half the mind to not even flip the damn paper around to see what’s on the other side just judging by some poorly written ad about coffin rentals. Something about getting two for the price of one? _Yikes, no thanks._

But something urges Yoohyeon to flip the paper over. She doesn’t know if it’s just her final shred of hope she’s holding out so that her and Bora’s hard work wasn’t for nothing, or if she’s senselessly grabbing at the end of straws at this point.

Regardless, she flips the paper over, even if it’s just to humor whoever is pulling the strings.

The moment that Yoohyeon see’s the woman’s Aphrodite-like image, those dark eyes that shine like obsidian staring right back into Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes, whose amber flakes inside of them flicker like a spark from a flame--the forbidden apple splits right down the middle.

Revealing the woman who Yoohyeon has spent all night looking for, Minji who has been looking out her bedroom window for years, unknowingly looking for Yoohyeon.

Yoohyeon exhales involuntarily, as if the air was just stolen from within her burning lungs.

Rosé had been wrong.

Minji wasn’t just really pretty, she’s entirely surreal; having this ethereal beauty that only angels could possibly obtain. For she had hair that matches the color of ravens’ silky feathers, her hair long enough that it cascades down past her shoulders; clear skin matching the tone of long-dead Korean royalty, and those eyes that are piercing with voraciousness. But yet somehow Yoohyeon can see this little glint in Minji’s eyes that looks so _sad._

This only makes Yoohyeon’s heart drop, shattering in the lowest pit of her stomach’s grounds, broken over the sad look, a look that reminds Yoohyeon of loss, in a woman’s eyes that Yoohyeon doesn’t even know. 

In the background outside, the morning songbirds wake up singing, something divining in their tones; thus awakening something inexpressible in Yoohyeon’s soul.

For whatever reason, the moment that Yoohyeon’s trembling fingers go to trace the outline of Minji’s sad eyes, she is reminded of Mina’s story about the woman who waits.

Yoohyeon can’t explain it, really. Not even to herself as to why it is that when she touches Minji’s image she thinks of that fabled woman twirling her slender fingers around the vines of those grapes, the only thing she couldn’t destroy under her gentle touch, before whispering: _Am I not deserving of love?_

Maybe it’s the sheer fact that within this picture Minji stands in front of her vineyard, looking away, like she’s waiting for something. But once again for whatever reason Yoohyeon can’t help but to draw a parallel between that fabled woman and Kim Minji.

Both of whom are the same, both who are deserving of love.

The magnetism in which Yoohyeon feels drawn to the stranger in the picture is simply undeniable, but hardly understandable to such matters of the heart.

It’s the same feeling Yoohyeon had felt all those years ago, like something has just taken a hold of her heart and now will not let go of it.

 _‘It’s about what I’m missing.’_ Yoohyeon recalls her words that she had told Gahyeon years ago back at that carnival, on top of that unmoving ferris wheel.

 _‘Do you think you’ll find it there?’_ Yoohyeon isn’t so sure if that’s Gahyeon’s voice that she’s remembering or if it’s her own heart speaking those words to her.

Yoohyeon ever-so-slowly blinks, subconsciously skimming the smooth pad of her thumb over Minji’s beautiful face, somehow feeling all the pain that woman keeps stored in the deep burning fissures of her broken heart.

_Yeah, I do._

The forbidden apple’s exposed fruit begins to rot ever-so-slowly, letting it’s sweet juices fizzle unto the floor--letting Yoohyeon’s golden heart begin to melt, oozing out pure gold; pure aching compassion for Minji.

“Bora…” Yoohyeon breathes, to which the sleepy woman looks her way. 

“I found her.”

***

** The Red Sun Post **

_14th August 2016_

____________________________________________________________________________________________

_It was once said, “There is warmth after the fire.” This sentiment does in fact ring true, for the event that changed the lives and livelihood of not only the workers at Flyhigh Downs but several on the track thoroughbreds. Earlier this week Flyhigh Downs main stable went up in flames after an electrical shortage ran amok thus leading to one of the biggest tragedies at Flyhigh Downs since the loss of the much beloved triple crown winner, “Can’t sleep a Minx.” Several up and coming fillies and colts lost their lives to that horrible barn fire that day. While many others horses lost not their lives but their capabilities to participate in any future races. A truly sad day for animal lovers and track workers alike. But there is happiness that comes from the after stages of grief, and in this story there are many happy endings for several horses that survived that barn fire._

_Kim Minji the exclusive owner of Piri Hills winery, known for being the sole heir of her late family’s company, has stepped forward to give a new home for the few remaining horses that are unable to finish their careers at Flyhigh Downs after suffering from various third degree burns. A true act of charity for these horses, who otherwise might have not been given that second chance._

_When asked about what made the successful business woman want to adopt these horses, Kim Minji had this to say: “They needed a home, and I was more than willing to give that to them. If all we did as humans is toss things aside when they’re no longer in working order for us. Well, then that makes us no better than the fire that stole those other horses lives away.”_

____________________________________________________________________________________________

***

After cleaning up the archives before hightailing it out of there with the same original copy of that newspaper still held within Yoohyeon’s hands, Bora and Yoohyeon are currently heading back to Yoohyeon’s apartment for some shut eye before they have to be back at work for the night shift.

Bora’s watches the road ahead, her eyes still threatening to close every now and then, despite Yoohyeon’s many offers to drive them back to her place so that Bora could rest in the car, Bora had politely declined every offer.

Maybe one day she’ll let Yoohyeon finally drive Siyeon.

Besides, Yoohyeon seems too focus on that newspaper more than anything else. She seemingly has been since she found it.

Bora glances her way, catching Yoohyeon staring down at Minji’s image, she looks lost in thought if Bora really had to guess.

“She looks _mean._ ” Bora states plainly, having felt that way since she saw the reclusive winery owner. She can’t explain it really, but something in her gut turned the moment she saw Minji’s dark eyes, something screaming in her: _If looks could kill, Minji surely would._

Yeah, maybe she’s being a bit judgemental, seeing as how she doesn’t even know the woman, and Bora may or may not be secretly adding that woman’s name to her list of potential suspects due to Minji ‘allegedly’ being linked to this Kim Sanghoon. It’s Bora's job to be wary and to not write anything or anyone off--not even if said suspect saves burned up horses just out of the kindness of her own heart.

Yoohyeon looks up from the paper, glances over to Bora, holding her own tongue back that wants to say: _I think she looks sad._

She looks back down at the paper without saying a single word.

Bora wouldn’t understand.

Just like how Yoohyeon doesn’t understand why her own heart leaps from within her chest every single time she looks upon Minji’s sad obsidian eyes.

 _This feels like death._ Yoohyeon thinks. While her heart feels as though: _This is what living truly feels like._

.

“We’ll go tomorrow after work.” Bora informs, patting down the pillows and various blankets on her best friend’s couch that Yoohyeon had given her, for Bora had simply expressed that she wanted to sleep on the couch as opposed to sharing Yoohyeon's bed again. Truthfully she just wants to give Yoohyeon her own space--after today they all could use it.

Plus Yoohyeon kicks in her sleep sometimes, no doubt over her recurring nightmares. Bora feels kind of bad for that being some of her reasoning as to why she opted to sleep on the couch, but honestly she’s also extremely tired, and needs to get some uninterrupted sleep before heading into work this afternoon.

Her and Yoohyeon need their sleep, really. And it goes without saying that if Yoohyeon wakes up screaming from yet another nightmare, Bora will ,without a shadow of a doubt, be running into the girl’s bed to comfort her.

“You don’t want to waste any time, huh?” Yoohyeon stifles a yawn before crossing her arms over her chest as she leans onto the wall of the hallway, leading to her bedroom.

“We’ve waited long enough.” Bora breathes, and _-God-_ there’s so much power behind her tone that it renders Yoohyeon speechless.

Bora is right.

Everyone has waited long enough.

.

Yoohyeon enters her room before setting the newspaper down by her bedside table; all while trying to not think of Minji’s dark eyes that flicker like flames through Yoohyeon’s mind.

She tells herself it’s the excitement of finally getting the information that she and Bora have sought after. She doesn’t let her heart tell her that it’s a stronger feeling than that; that it’s something else entirely as to why she keeps thinking about Minji, like some alluring siren’s song; singing and singing until Yoohyeon is at the sea’s edge-- _ready to drown._

 _Why are your eyes so sad?_ Yoohyeon can’t help but to wonder. It’s the biggest question of the day, and yet there’s no answer as to why someone like Minji, a woman who seemingly has it all--has nothing at all. 

.

Somehow Yoohyeon manages to fall asleep, despite this aching feeling of yearning swirling around from within her chest, making her heart beat frantically, for she wishes she had answers--Yoohyeon wishes that her mind would stop showing her Minji’s beautiful image from behind her own closed eyelids.

.

The moment that Yoohyeon’s heavy eyelids flutter open is the moment that she feels silk crimson bed sheets engulfing her all the while a chilly, but somehow warm, and unfathomable tone body collides gently with her own, a pleasant press.

Yoohyeon’s hands grip at the sturdy arms pressed against her body, one dainty hand resting on the curve of her side while the other cradles the right side of her neck; the smooth pad of her lover’s thumb caresses her jawline as the delicate lips of that woman press firmly against Yoohyeon’s throat--kissing her in a way that’s devouring.

It’s all too familiar, feels too familiar.

Yoohyeon is having the same dream as last night.

Somehow in her surreal state she knows that, she’s painfully aware of that realization. But even as her lover kisses her neck relentlessly, as if she’s consuming Yoohyeon’s frantic heartbeat; grazing over her pulse point with the sharp tips of her canines, Yoohyeon can’t find it within herself to push the woman away. Instead this heady feeling of passion demands that Yoohyeon pulls her closer, surrenders to the sweet kisses left on her neck; to fall in love with the woman, who undoubtedly loves her back with an undying heart.

Yoohyeon sees stars within her own eyes, experiences heaven on earth with each gentle kiss that’s pressed into the column of her neck. Somewhere in the distance she hears the rapid sound of a horse’s hoof colliding against the dirt of the earth before her lover sighs into her neck, full of happiness.

Yoohyeon remembers what happens next, feels it when her lover’s fangs tease the side of her neck, promising forever.

Before Yoohyeon’s blood can be shed, something flickers awake inside Yoohyeon’s soul.

She doesn’t want to die.

She doesn’t want her lover to change her forever.

Yoohyeon tries to push her off, using all the strength she can muster. But in her dream-state she’s far weaker than what she would be awake.

The woman presses one last kiss to Yoohyeon’s neck.

Yoohyeon knows what’s coming.

_No._

Yoohyeon has no idea why she readies herself to scream the name that she’s about to. All she can chalk it up too is that somewhere in her psyche, a place that’s riddled with a certain woman’s image--somewhere deep within the chambers of her own heart Yoohyeon finally puts a face to the woman that she’s been dreaming about since the day that she and Bora found that man’s body.

“Minji!” Yoohyeon yells, using all the strength she has left in once final push. It’s enough for the woman to rise slightly off of her before hovering above Yoohyeon as she looks down at her with so much sadness in her eyes, Yoohyeon almost cries at the sight.

_It’s her._

_It’s really her._

Somehow Yoohyeon just knew.

“Minji?” She questions, her voice so small, almost on the verge of cracking.

Minji stares back at her, looking deep within Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes.

 _This is death_ , a state of emptiness that Yoohyeon feels because the woman above her looks so unbelievably torn, ripped apart by the seams of her lovely soul.

Yoohyeon knows what it’s like to not have a heart that beats hopefully, a heart that once had felt hollow from within her chest.

She feels Minji’s pain, and relates to it.

But so long as there is still hope within this world, within the hearts of those who wish to heal.; pain will one day go away.

One day soon, Minji’s pain too will go away.

Yoohyeon reaches forward, her fingers trembling as she goes to touch the marble face of her lover?--only to wake up the moment when Minji’s teardrop touches Yoohyeon’s pointer finger.

Yoohyeon bolts upwards, breathing in deeply; as if she’s been submerged underwater for the last several years. Her lungs burn as she breathes in and out, trying so desperately to feel like she’s not dying.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she rests her face into the sweaty palms of her shaky hands, sobbing as thinks about the look that had been engraved upon Minji’s face in her dreams.

_Why do I keep dreaming about you?_

_Why do you always look so sad? I don’t understand._

Yoohyeon lets out this heart-rending sob of anguish, as her weak body slumps forward. She cries into her warm bed sheets, she cries for a woman she doesn’t even know; she cries for Minji, who has cried for centuries.

***

It’s many hours later, now deep into the night when Minji looks out her bedroom window, the dazzling sky covering her dark eyes.

So much was lost today, but yet the stars still shine brightly, as if the heinous world beneath them is deserving of their merciful cast of light.

Minji knows she does not deserve to see another ray of light, not when all she does is extinguish it. 

Handong has yet to return to the manor since what had taken place at the Han river. She had followed every single command that Minji had demanded, from: _“We wait till morning.”_ Minji had barely uttered out back in the barn when Handong had first told her of Sanghoon’s whereabouts, to: _“Bring him to me….Find me at the river.”_

Handong, her loyal companion.

But never were they friends.

Minji brings the glass of red wine that she is holding to her lips, taking a sip as she stares down into her vineyard, yearning to feel something.

Drawn to that feeling, to the music in which it composes; falling right into it.

Sanghoon is dead, and now Minji’s anger is gone.

All that remains is pain, and Minji holds onto it, her dainty hands bleeding from clenching on too tightly.

She has reaped her salvation, wallowed around in it’s ungodly shades of crimson. For it was what she wanted. All that greed, all that selfishness that her hellish rage carries-- _gone._

But Minji does not feel relieved, nor thankful, nor glad.

All she feels is regret, grief; bleeding anguish--pouring out from her unbeating heart.

They’re numbing feelings, but yet they overwhelm her; constricting her in all their relentless wrath.

 _It’s deserving._

She drinks the rest of the wine, almost greedy with how she consumes it; her throat burning from how strong the alcohol within it is. It’s an unreal burning feeling that engulfs her, she wonders if this too is how Sanghoon had felt?

Maybe she’s deserving of the same fate?

Other than her animals that love her unconditionally, her vineyard that she has tended to for years, what else is there to live for?

Perhaps it’s better to destroy herself than to watch what is left that she loves, one day too be reduced to ashes. To not have to be destroyed by her own hands, her hands that _bleed and bleed, and bleed._

She looks to the heavens, curses all things holy; for if God, or whoever it is in control up there, is such a forgiving thing, a compassionate all-too-powerful being that can raise up those crushed in spirit--then why is Minji’s heart still broken?

Why did she have to be changed all those years ago?

What is the reasoning for all this?

Is there even one at all?

 _‘I curse you Kim Minji-’_ Minji can still hear the sounds of those wooden chimes.

Not now, not today.

 _Do I even have a soul anymore?_ Minji wonders, hating how this is a question that’s been left unanswered for years.

Minji looks back down to her vineyard, searching for a shred of herself within the vines of the grapes, for a part of her soul that might lie within the fruits.

She finds nothing.

However, it’s only because she has yet to meet her other half.

_Soon._

Although Minji doesn’t know that, doesn’t realize that the only thing keeping her from ripping herself apart is that fate is finally bringing her what she’s been begging her whole life for.

True, undeniable, love. 

Someone who was destined ever since the age of five to fall in love with her.

And for Minji to fall head over heels in love with _her_ too.

The door to Minji’s bedroom creeks open ever-so-slowly before little tapping of tiny nails echo throughout the room, the sounds heading straight towards Minji who turns around--only for the air inside of her lungs to get stolen from her, taken by the two little dogs who are running her way, so happy to see her; as if they’ll been waiting for her forever.

_What?_

Minji slowly falls to her knees, stunned. The two little Pomeranians bounce into her lap before quickly attempting to lick her face, to cover her tear stained cheeks in kisses; to remind her that in life there are things worth living for.

Minji holds them both to her chest, kissing the top of their heads; promising that despite what she is, she'll never hurt them.

For she’d tangle herself up in the vines of her vineyard, living the rest of her damned eternity in complete solitude than to ever take the life of things that are forever unwilling to cause harm to others.

A step forward from someone’s heels has Minji darting her head up to look at them, only for her to see Handong standing at the bedroom’s doorway, with Nannan weaving in between her owner’s legs.

“Why?” Minji asks right away, knowing without Handong needing to say a word that she is the one who brought these two little dogs home.

This is why she’s been gone nearly all day.

Handong looks to Minji, tilting her head ever-so-slightly; she can’t help but to notice the dried tear stains painted down in streaks against Minji’s marble skin--nor can Handong dispute how Minji looks like a weeping angel. 

Isn’t it wrong that even angels cry too?

“I know how much you wanted them.” Handong replies easily enough, watching as the white dog, Cherry, the rescue had named her, nuzzles into Minji’s neck. Never would Handong also admit: _I was hoping to see you smile again. It’s been so long, so, so long._

_It’s been well over three-hundred years._

Handong doesn’t even know if Minji is capable of smiling anymore.

Especially not after today.

All Minji has done is frown. All Handong can do is smile.

The cruel irony in which direction their delicate lips curls has never escaped Handong. 

“The things these two little girls have seen is unreal.” Handong informs, pausing to watch the other dog, the brown one, Sapphire, or as the rescue had called her Pie, spin in circles around the room. “They belong here.” She finishes, alluding to the fact that all things thrown away or no longer desirable by others seems to find refuge in Minji’s manor.

Refuge in Minji’s hands that are fully capable of restoration.

If only she knew that.

Minji’s dark eyes flicker between the dogs than to Handong once more.

The moment that their eyes locked with one another, Minji feels something for the woman that she hasn’t felt for a very long time; not since Handong had tried to save her all those years ago.

_Gratitude._

Although Handong has been by Minji’s side for years now, abided by her terms; killed others because the woman had asked her to-

Never has Minji shown that feeling towards her.

“Thank you, Dongie.” Until now.

Handong slowly bows her head, the corners of her lips curling upwards. Despite having a way with words, her quick wit demanding such, Handong is rendered speechless.

And in this moment, where Minji is looking at her, like Handong is more than someone bound to her by fealty, Handong would like to believe that perhaps in another life they could’ve been friends. 

For she has never hated Minji, nor has Minji ever truly hated her.

But the pain of the past has tainted the future of what they could’ve been.

Had fate not suffered them--had the ancestors’ curse not tarnished the women that they once were.

Maybe they could’ve been so much more than just two women ruined by loss.

Handong can only smile before turning on her heel without saying another word, hoping that whatever it is that Minji waits for at that window will one day find her.

Only once Minji knows for sure that Handong is out of earshot does she finally allow herself to break down, letting Cherry and Pie lick away her warm tears as they spill out from her eyes. For these two dogs look at her with love glowing in their sweet eyes--they don’t see the monster in which she is.

They see a brokenhearted woman who now is their friend, their protector, their mother.

They already love her without restrictions.

_Unconditionally._

Minji still doesn’t know if she has a soul or not, but this feeling rising from within her chest--it feels like something is being restored.

To that...she smiles.

Unbeknownst to Minji, Nannan had stayed behind to watch her, taking in all of Minji’s heart-rending sorrow...and her joyous smile.

Handong truly didn't know how much joy her decision to adopt those two little dogs had brought Minji.

But later that night when Nannan crawls into bed with her, Handong sees all in which her beloved cat had.

After seemingly forever, Handong is able to see Minji’s smile again.

To which all Handong can do is smile.

But this time--it is genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you guys felt this one. It was a really powerful chapter to write. Let me know what you guys think, I truly want to hear it all! What was your favorite parts? Who's your favorite character to read/learn about? Are y'all sacred for what's to come? X) Hehe. Thank you everyone for reading and giving this humble little fic love. I'm blown away by all the positivity. So thank you, truly. Until next time, take care and be safe. Xoxo
> 
> P.s. Y'ALL BETTER BE STREAMING ODD EYE WHEN IT COMES OUT!!! #DREAMCATCHER1STWIN


	5. I Lost Something in the Hills (Part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try keep this note short because let me tell ya, I'M SO EXCITED FOR Y'ALL TO READ PART ONE OF THIS CHAPTER! First and foremost, thank you friends for the overwhelming support on this story. I love you all, seriously. (Y'all be making me tear up because you guys are so nice and thoughtful, and I'm so glad that most of you are enjoying this humble story.) WHEW, I have a few more things left to say and I'll let you guys read. It's unreal to me that this chapter and part two (Which is coming very soon.) is coming to life. THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND, RENT FREE, SINCE DAY ONE. I'm so happy to see it come to life in words, and finally be able to share it with you guys.
> 
> IMPORTANT: I hate to say this but this chapter has some heavy T/W. There are mentions of attempted suicide, sexual misconduct, and heavy talks about the Christianity belief. The first two listed are not described in great detail, but they can be upsetting. By no means am I setting out to make this story a full uncomfortable time for y'all, but these themes mentions above are not taken lightly, and they're very important to this story and it's characters. Reader discretion is advised.

Sooyoung has never been one to have patience for those who are late.

She can’t find it in herself to remain unbothered, nor feel pity for the people who miss out on opportunities because their grasp on time isn’t the strongest.

However, here she is standing outside of one of the most beautiful, and rather pricey, Hanoks within the county of Hadong, waiting like an idiot.

She had this whole booking planned. She had scheduled a nice time in the morning, not too late, not too early; the perfect time to show this house before today’s thunderstorm comes to play--to mask the beauty of this home with it’s heavy layers of rain and dark clouds. She had even worn her nicest blazer, dress pants, and black heels she owns. It’s an outfit choice that Seungwan always comments: " _My tall, sexy Godzilla, of a wife."_ while wearing her dorky, but absolutely cute, love-smitten smile on her face.

Seungwan always knew how to make Sooyoung feel unbelievably special, and fuel the real estate agent’s, already huge, ego even further. Regardless, Sooyoung never could hold back her own smile or the pampering of kisses that she leaves across her wife’s face every time Seungwan says something too sweet.

Sooyoung is lucky to have her, she’s more than well aware of that fact. Hence why she didn’t dilly-dally with her chance to sweep Seungwan off of her feet all those years ago, to steal the opportunity that Joohyun had missed because she was late-- _because she was afraid._

Was it a crime that Sooyoung took what she wanted? She had feelings for Seungwan for as long as she could remember. She had wanted her since the day Seungwan showed up, Joohyun by her side, on the doorstep of the Baes’ household, smiling while she bowed her head, in a manner that was shy--that was _sweet._

Seungwan was like candy in a window shop, all pretty and sweet. Sooyoung took that one look at her that day and knew she just had to have her.

Joohyun played her little games, a trial of what Seungwan had to offer. She took her time with the stages, but never did she get pass the last part.

All her sister did was wait, Sooyoung was tired of waiting for her. 

Sooyoung, in all her right, doesn’t think it’s a crime, nor wrong to pursue the matters of her own heart. It wasn’t like Seungwan was ever _with_ Joohyun, and Seungwan had expressed that she also shared mutual feelings for Sooyoung. (Though this was way after Seungwan’s departure to Busan, and Joohyun’s silent rejection for them to finally be together.)

Why should she have waited for her sister to get her shit together when Seungwan was willing to be her instead?

Feelings hold no restrictions, no time limit, and Sooyoung wasn’t going to confine her own feelings into them.

She isn’t like Joohyun, nor would she ever be.

However, Sooyoung remembers a time, long ago back in her and Joohyun's youth, that perhaps at one point they could’ve been alike, bound like how sisters should be.

After entering into the first stages of adolescence, leaving behind the childish spurt of cooties and all things immature, Sooyoung had sought to know her sister--to form a bond between them. But Joohyun was at the age where hanging around her sibling, her sister, would've make her uncool, lame; a reputation that she didn’t want.

Joohyun had sought solitude; and the bridge between them, a place where they could’ve met halfway to each other's hearts, had caught on fire; embers sizzling in the wind, ceasing to exist because people’s viewment of their characters was far more important than how they viewed each other.

But Sooyoung remembers that she had tried, her skin brushed with scalding sparks every time she had knocked on her sister’s bedroom door and asked: _“Do you want to go ride our bikes together, Joohyun-ah?”_ She’d never receive an answer, only because Joohyun had not heard her. For Joohyun would have her headsets in, listening to her cassette tape while Sooyoung would knock on the door, her heart pounding in her chest; loud like the silent plea to have her big sister’s attention.

As they got older not much had changed at all.

Joohyun would still push her away, without knowing just how much strength she had in that push, whether intentionally or not. She was more worried about her grades, how to make their parents regard her as something more than just their daughter--more than just a sister to Sooyoung.

Sooyoung just wanted Joohyun to stop viewing her as a burden, a nuisance in her life. But Joohyun never did see her as something other than that, at least in Sooyoung eyes.

So Sooyoung proved herself to the only people who had paid her mind, their parents. She exceeded their expectations, she had done well in school, did all her daily chores that were asked of her; and had even worked part time at a bakery to help support their family. She did all this in her youth, a time where most teengers were living life without much responsibility.

Maybe that’s why her parents ‘favored’ her, saw something in her that they didn’t see in other kids within society. Maybe they spent so much time being thankful, and praising Sooyoung for all that she did that they had put their eldest daughter on the backburner; who did just as much as Sooyoung did but was overshadowed by her sister’s tower of accomplishments.

In truth, their parents saw Sooyoung for her actions, and not who she was as a person--as their daughter, a girl who wanted to prove herself but to also have courage to say: “ _See me as I am. For my hands will get weak one day and my work will not be as good. But this heart of mine will never tire out it’s love for you all.”_

But Sooyoung--she was once afraid too.

The day that the bridge between her and Joohyun burned down completely was the day that Seungwan came into both of their lives, blooming like a field of wildflowers; promising that her presence was a blessing without uttering a single word. No, for her dazzling smile and kind eyes were enough to know.

Sooyoung knew right away, knew a blessing when she saw one and in turned gave thanks for such a gift.

Seungwan was the first person to see Sooyoung as she was, admire her as a person, and love her big heart--despite Sooyoung trying to keep it all hidden under the guise of a cold-hearted bitch.

However, Seungwan was the first person to see past her ruse, and Sooyoung had willingly given her big heart to Seungwan from the very start.

Seungwan had three hearts in total, her own, Joohyun’s, and Sooyoung’s.

Sooyoung gave hers up.

Joohyun’s was returned.

Seungwan lost hers.

So what was left of that bridge collapsed, the remains tarnished in ash. On opposite sides, where the bridge had began and ended, Sooyoung and Joohyun had gave each other one last look, a look of what could’ve been before they had turned their backs on one another.

Sisters turned into enemies.

Hatred form by love.

How could such things be?

Sooyoung looks at the designer watch on her wrist, huffing as she checks the time. Her potential buyer is half an hour late. As much as she would love to have the chance to sell this house, profiting off the sale by ten folds; giving her enough money that she could do something very nice for her wife--Sooyoung’s patience has but long went out the window.

She gathers up her things, paperwork, information about the estate, and her disappointment about this sale tanking.

Little does she know, she will sell this house; right now actually.

A second later the door to the house opens, letting in a slight gust of warm air. Sooyoung turns around, immediately taken back by her client’s vision, a look of beauty that is akin to black velvet.

The lady was older, probably in her late thirties if Sooyoung had to guess, yet she carried youth to her. Her ivory skin shining like newly grown elephant tusks, her long black hair parted down the middle and slicked back, to the sides of her elegantly refined face. With straight brows, double-eyelids, her eyes darker than coal, yet they shine like the scales of a black snake, and red full lips--this lady is dominating beauty, like violet lighting in the wickedest of storms.

Sooyoung is slightly intimidated by her.

The real estate agent has never undermined her own captivating beauty, in another life she undoubtedly would've been a model. But it’s only human of her to look inwards, critique her own value when someone like the lady before her exists.

 _She’s pretty._ It’s a quick thought, along with Sooyoung’s own judgement of herself before she brushes it all off, knowing damn well she’s a bombshell and that there is no woman, nor man that she’ll allow herself to feel intimidated by. 

“You must be Ms. Jung?” Sooyoung finally asks, after regaining her compose; walking over to the woman to extend her own hand.

The woman takes it easily, matches Sooyoung’s firm grip with fever. “Yes. My apologies for being late.” 

“No worries.” Sooyoung smiles, her smile not quite reaching her eyes; the other woman can feel Sooyoung's previous frustrations through the release of her hand.

 _Interesting._ The lady notes. 

Sooyoung can’t help but to notice the tiny beauty mark underneath the woman’s eye. Everything about her seems too perfect--unhuman even. “Shall we get started? I’d love to give you a tour of the house. The kitchen’s to die for. The amount of potential it has for some of the best meals in your life is unreal.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’d like to go ahead and purchase the home outright. Just tell me where I need to sign.”

Sooyoung blinks, completely caught off-guard. “You want to buy the house without even looking at it?” She asks, her mouth hanging open in shock, or perhaps she just forgot to close it. In all her years of working, selling houses to all kinds of people, she has never had someone buy a home outright.

Sure, this lady by outward appearance seems to be well off, judging by how everything she is wearing is the newest in designer; insomuch Versace would weep in joy. But even the wealthiest of higher society put their eggs into different baskets as to not go overboard.

But each second that passes, this woman is proving herself to not be the common norm; she’s unlike anyone that Sooyoung has ever met.

She waves her hand dismissively, laughing, full of air, at the expression on Sooyoung’s face. “I’ve seen enough pictures through its advertisements to have me sold. Besides I’d rather keep the ball moving. I can hardly wait to settle in.” She informs, watching as Sooyoung arches a single brow before gathering up the paperwork once again.

“I take it you must have family in the area then?” Sooyoung asks, feeling curious as to why this woman is purchasing the most expensive house in a farming region of all places. She could, from the looks of it, have her pick of luxury apartments in Seoul. So why live here? It has to be family--it’s gotta be.

“Sort of. More like an old acquaintance.” She clarifies, Sooyoung swears she sees deadly flames starting to flicker amok in the dark coals of that woman’s eyes.

Okay so she’s probably got some long lost love living here, things probably ended badly now she’s here to stir up trouble. It’s one of Sooyoung’s theories, the milder one being maybe a business partner gone rogue. Or maybe Sooyoung is being over dramatic, a little judgemental, and honestly just bitch.

She shrugs her shoulders, more to herself than anything. Other than this sale none of this is her business, really. She pulls out the right papers along with a red pen before handing it over to the lady.

As the woman signs her name on several dotted lines, Sooyoung feels the need to ask her a question; one that she’s not so sure why she feels the need to ask it. If anything it’s her curiosity getting the better of her.

Seungwan would tell her: “ _Don’t you know that curiosity kills the cat?”_ But Sooyoung doesn’t care.

“Are you hoping to see them soon?”

 _Jung Dasol._ Sooyoung sees the woman’s name written neatly, yet another thing about her that seems perfect.

Dasol hands the paperwork back over to Sooyoung, looking at her in a way that it makes the real estate agent’s throat bob involuntary.

“Before the storm comes.”

Sooyoung nods, feeling the warmth of the sunlight seeping in through the windows of the house.

The storm feels like it’s already here. 

***

Yoohyeon has cried a lot in her life thus far. She has cried in joy, in anger, in sadness. She has cried from loss, and the anticipation of a new day; where perhaps it would rain down the reviving waters of fulfillment to somehow fill the deepness that she had once felt from within her golden heart.

A golden heart that had cried out it’s own rose gold liquids, a heart that had cried out in excruciating melancholiness...Her heart that had cried senselessly for Minji--a stranger in Yoohyeon’s aching eyes.

But to Yoohyeon’s seemingly glitched psyche, to her vivid dreams that are riddled with Minji’s enthreal image, Minji is so much more than just some beautiful stranger.

Minji feels like something that is aligned with forever, like something that has been _just there_ ; waiting, watching, longing for the day when the waters of fulfillment, _of restoration_ , will submerged her down into its heavenly lake; baptizing her soul--washing away all the pain in which she has felt since _forever_.

However, Yoohyeon doesn’t know of all that. All she knows is that she can’t get this woman out of her mind, nor out of her heart. For Minji has been trapped there ever since Yoohyeon had laid her warm brown eyes upon Minji’s cold obsidian ones that were framed in that newspaper.

Minji’s sad eyes had captivated Yoohyeon, pulled her into this labyrinth of sorrow that Yoohyeon just can’t seem to escape. Truthfully, Yoohyeon is not so sure she wants to find the exit, not until she finds the treasure kept hidden among the hedges; kept hidden behind the constricting vines that wrap around Minji’s heart.

Yoohyeon wants to know why Minji looks so sad.

Yoohyeon wants to know Minji beyond the lines in which duty calls for.

(Both of which are life-altering.)

Because once again, Yoohyeon has always extended past the limits in which one normally, or shouldn’t at all, go.

She tells herself that her reasonings are due to the mystery that surrounds the beautiful winery owner, for it has always been in Yoohyeon’s nature to seek out the unknown, to drive into murky waters without even so much as holding her breath, to follow her own heart when it tells her: _This is what is meant to be._

In these same reasonings Yoohyeon tells herself to not let a handful of riveting dreams cloud her better judgement, for dreams are dreams; stories are stories. These things are fantasized and created by those who have overly-imaginative minds, and hearts that wish to feel something more than what reality could possibly ever give them.

But that’s the problem, the Ambrosian wall of that maze that Yoohyeon finds herself hitting hard. She has not only an overly-imaginative mind, which probably explains why her dreams seem keen on having Minji as a supporting actor, if not the leading role in all of them, but also Yoohyeon has this own heart of hers that has always been childish, most would even say naive. But Yoohyeon has never liked the idea that by having a heart that remains in this child-like state, a state that is too pure, it makes her foolish.

To have a heart that wishes to help others feel the wonder that is out there in this life has never been a foolish thing, nor something to scoff at.

What is foolish, if not just damning of oneself, is to lose that childish wonder. To think that perhaps the world is far too old to retain the innocence that it once had held in the core of its own earthly heart.

The world has never chosen to change itself, it’s the people that live within it that shape it into something else.

Make it into what they want it to be.

The same goes with people, their values, their hearts; all can be changed by the sharpened tools of another.

Yoohyeon had almost undergone that changing surgery, the reshaping of her own heart, but Bora had helped her out of there.

Bora helped Yoohyeon save herself.

Now here they both are, sitting inside of Siyeon, who Bora had parked inside of a small cut-through of the median strip so that the two officers can look out for any driving violations. However, it seems unlikely that they'll come across anyone who's not abiding by traffic rules this late at night. Despite being near the heart of Busan’s main city, everything seems pretty quiet within the rural area of Gijang.

Quiet enough that Bora has enjoyed her third cup of coffee in much needed peace while the bright neon lights of the several closed shops’ signage seeps in through the car’s front windshield, flickering breaths of dreamy colors over Bora and Yoohyeon’s sun-kissed skin.

Although they’re illuminated by the colorful hues of the neon lights, Bora cannot see the sadness kept stored within Yoohyeon’s brown eyes, the sadness burning from within those amber flakes inside of Yoohyeon’s irises. Bora cannot see the sadness in her best friend’s eyes--only because Yoohyeon is trying so hard to keep how she’s feeling hidden.

_Because Bora...Bora wouldn’t understand._

How could she?

How could Bora be expected to understand Yoohyeon’s feelings when Yoohyeon doesn’t even understand them herself? 

Bora brings the brim of her disposable coffee cup to her delicate lips, taking a swing; letting the warm liquid sting at her perfectly polished teeth. She tries to not think about how she was jolted awake, hours ago, by the sounds of Yoohyeon’s muffled sobbing. She tries not to think about how her best friend had refused to speak of what that particular nightmare had entailed. All Yoohyeon had told her was that it was another bad dream. But every time that Bora sneaks a glance over at Yoohyeon she can’t help but to let the myriad of possibilities of what that nightmare really was consume her, letting it sting at her heart. Feeling similar to how when she finally swallows the warm liquid down, it warms her soul but in a manner that feels far from comforting.

Why can’t Yoohyeon just have one peaceful rest? One good dream? And why now is she keeping what she dreams about to herself?

Her dreams must be truly fucked up, like a whole elegy of _bad_ that she’s sparing from Bora’s ears.

While Bora appreciates the consideration, she’d feel a whole lot better easing Yoohyeon’s tired mind as opposed to sitting here in the dark waiting till their shifts over just to get back up and do it all over again.

 _Another nightmare_ , _another refusal_. Bora doesn’t like how this pattern is turning out.

At least after work tomorrow they’ll finally be heading in the right direction with this case, right in the direction to where Kim Minji, undoubtedly, rests her pretty-little-head. (Bora can only imagine the type of luxury the wingery owner must have. _Kim Minji has probably never had a bad night’s sleep in her whole entire life._ )

That should count for something. And yeah, it did at one point. But now, as Bora glances over to see Yoohyeon resting her weary head upon the car’s window sill, it doesn’t feel as exciting as it had before.

It doesn’t feel like it counts for something at all.

Not when Yoohyeon is wearing this look that’s far too heavy for someone who had turned the first page in this case several hours before now. They should be celebrating their victories like they had been. 

Well, up until Yoohyeon found that newspaper article; up until she woke up sobbing from whatever nightmare it was that she had.

Although the city’s streets are empty, seemingly dead, Bora feels as if there is a heavy weight, a crowd of emotion, a series of questions trampling over her heart.

 _“What are you thinking about?”_ Bora wants to ask right now, but she won’t. - _“Why did you keep that newspaper so close to you yesterday, as if it was your cross necklace?”_ A question Bora should’ve asked sooner, but now she won’t ask at all. Not when there’s this nagging feeling at the back of her mind that says: _You don’t even want to know._ \- _“What did you dream about last night? At least tell me if it had one thing that was good in it. Because my heart can’t take the thought of you tossing and turning, screaming at night; crying your heart out for something that isn’t real.”_ Bora would ask this one, but she knows Yoohyeon is adamant about keeping whatever that dream was to herself.

Bora forces herself to swallow down her own tired sigh. 

It’s not a pleasant thing to be left in the dark.

For only a fraction of a second does Joohyun’s image come to Bora’s mind, reminding Bora that she too has left people in the dark.

Is there a difference, really?

Bora shakes her head, as if that will chase away Joohyun’s image or this very, very slight feeling of guilt that’s currently running amok in her heart.

Keeping Joohyun in the dark is not the same as Yoohyeon keeping her in the dark.

At least this is what Bora tries to tell herself.

Although there isn’t much she can say or do that will make up for Yoohyeon’s loss of sleep, nor can Bora really chase away Yoohyeon’s nightmares by just her words alone; Bora still willingly chooses to sit in the dark with Yoohyeon, even if they’re on opposites side of the room.

Bora told herself many months ago that she’d never let Yoohyeon suffer alone. So as long as Yoohyeon is still by her, Bora will sit in the dark forever until Yoohyeon finds her light again to pull them back out of there.

Because once again, whether it’s Bora herself keeping Yoohyeon in the dark or Yoohyeon keeping her in the dark--there’s no doubt in Bora’s mind that Yoohyeon will always find a way to come running through with a light.

But now there are boundaries that Bora is willingly to respect. She just hopes that there is a space beyond the boundaries that she and Yoohyeon can both happily reside in _together,_ a place that holds beautiful scenery for their tired, changed, eyes.

Bora hopes that when the day comes where Yoohyeon is able to finally sleep peacefully, perhaps Yoohyeon’s dreams will reserve a special spot just for _her_.

Because honestly, Bora doesn’t want to think of a place or a time where she and Yoohyeon can’t be together.

Over in the next seat, Yoohyeon begins to ever-so-softy rasp her knuckles on the passenger’s side window, trying to match the beat of her own guilty heart.

She’s always been open with her heart, and she has been honest with how she feels when asked. But with her dream from last night, the other dreams she hasn’t told Bora of; and Minji’s image taking up all the space in her head, these are secrets that Yoohyeon must keep locked up within her heart, away from Bora--possibly forever.

Or at least until this case is solved.

_‘She looks mean.’_

Or until Minji is absolved from speculation of wrongdoing in it.

Once again, Yoohyeon blames this whole turn of events on chance while simultaneously keeping in mind that this Kim Sanghoon could very well be a perpetrator here. As much as the thought of diving into Bora’s conspiracies scares, if not hurts, Yoohyeon, it’s her job as a policewoman to look at everything under a microscope and not rule things out based on coincidences-- _based on feelings._

However, Yoohyeon just can’t bring herself to pour the cold unto Minji when she hasn’t even met her yet.

Not after everything that she herself has been through. 

Yoohyeon is painfully aware of what it feels like to have someone look upon her as if she’s lesser and not deserving of a chance to tell her own story; to prove that she’s not some _foreign thing_ or an outsider to be regarded as something that she isn’t.

If she was to sit here, and judge a woman that she doesn’t even know. Well, then that makes Yoohyeon no better than the people who had judged her when she first arrived in South Korea four years ago.

Yoohyeon had spent four years under a microscope, four years of being looked upon in a negative way. When the whole time all she ever asked for was the benefit of the doubt.

So of course, Yoohyeon is going to give Minji the benefit of the doubt.

Regardless of what the truth might be, for now Yoohyeon chooses to believe that the sadness held within Minji’s eyes is enough evidence that Minji is not the villain in this story.

.

Yoohyeon has always had a good conscience, how she speaks, her actions, they all can attest to this. If Yoohyeon was to search her mind for a handful of memories of what little bit of bad she’s done, she’d often find herself coming up with results that either had Gahyeon dragging her into some wild shenanigan, shenanigans that both of their parents wouldn't approve of; which was more often than not with those two. Or the other result being Bora leading her along the path of one of her crazy ideas, whilst Yoohyeon willingly holds her hand; laughing the whole way there. Well, up until Joohyun rains down her fury like hell’s brimstones, but that was only if she found out.

Yoohyeon can only imagine what type of hell she and Bora would endure should - _Godforbid-_ Joohyun find out what they’re doing behind the scenes.

Regardless of all that, Yoohyeon has never really been the type to choose the choice of what her conscience would deem as wrong. Sure, she’s told white lies here and there, she’s only human after all. Then of course there’s this whole case that she and Bora are working on without anyone’s knowledge--so yeah, maybe there’s some ‘wrong’ in that. However, Yoohyeon honestly believes it’s for the greater good, and her conscience has never been one to speak loudly when there’s this grey line between what’s categorical wrong and what's inherently good.

However, as she’s still sitting in Siyeon, hours later, with only two more hours left in her shift before she and Bora do this all over again before finally heading to Piri Hills; the dazzling sky covering Yoohyeon’s sad eyes, the neon lights skimming over the walls of her guilty heart; all while Bora’s own heart beats slowly--saying in between each measure: _Please. Say. Something. The. Silence. Is. Killing. Us._ Yoohyeon feels her conscience screaming at her, threatening to have her fall completely apart because she’s keeping Bora in the dark--She’s almost lying to her, and that kills a huge part of something inside of Yoohyeon.

She’s never lied to Bora, nor has she ever even so much as thought about it--until that dream happened, until these conflicting feelings that are running the biggest war from within Yoohyeon’s heart had to be created over this unexplainable, but powerful, magnetic pull that Minji has that is unknowingly drawing Yoohyeon in.

Like a moth to a flame, Yoohyeon can’t help but to be drawn to the light. But neither can she fully lie to Bora, her best friend, a person who provides warmth and not the pain in which flames would.

Bora would never burn her.

It’s all these things above, and the pure light flickering from within Yoohyeon’s soul does she finally speak out in this heavy darkness, but she doesn’t, nor will she tell Bora of what she dreams of--Because she knows Bora won’t understand.

But Yoohyeon hopes that somehow Bora will understand the implications from behind her words, and hear the truth that Yoohyeon hates to keep away from her.

“Bora do you believe in fairytales?” It’s a question, but within Yoohyeon’s question there is the truth, the truth pertaining to a certain story that Yoohyeon used to beg her own mother to retell all throughout her youth.

A story that she can’t help but to relate to Minji.

The question had felt heavy on Yoohyeon’s tongue, but the moment that it left her parted lips she had felt something be let free. Despite her bravery, Yoohyeon can’t meet Bora’s soft gaze yet. Instead the American woman looks ahead, passing the view of the windshield, looking lost despite knowing this area far too well. 

Bora instantly straightens up in her seat, her pretty eyebrows furrowing together; surprised that Yoohyeon is breaking the silence. But more so caught off-guard by such a childish question. A question that only her best friend would think to ask.

“Like Beauty and the Beast?” Bora asks, scrunching her face up at the thought of some terrible monster falling in love with a good-hearted woman. _Totally unrealistic._ Who writes these things anyways?

Yoohyeon skims the tip of her tongue over her cracked lips, hating how dry they suddenly are. She thinks about how in her dreams Minji’s canines were sharper than that of wolves, almost like they were something akin to a bat. She thinks about how those fangs had caressed the side of her neck, how they drew gentle patterns over the spot of her pulse point, in a manner that reminded Yoohyeon of forever. Yoohyeon thinks about how the night before that the Minji in her dreams had kissed her on the same spot as before. Only that time she followed the soft press of her lips with a constricting bite from those fangs, draining the warm blood out of Yoohyeon’s lovely veins, Minji promising her through that painful latch that they’d have something that was _evermore._

 _A tale as old as time._ Yoohyeon can’t help but to think. 

“Kind of.” She breathes before hoping a second later that Bora can’t decode the heaviness behind her tone.

There’s a tiny pause.

Bora seems to mull over the possibility of said tale being true before shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I don’t think so. But I get the whole theme of envy unrewarded, and learning to love what may first appear as a beast.” Bora tells, pausing to allow Yoohyeon enough time to look her way, hopeful; despite knowing that Bora’s choice in words has put herself in a paradox from her previous assessment of Minji’s nature before.

_‘She looks mean.’_

Bora looks Yoohyeon’s way again, catching the girl’s brown eyes on her own. “But I think it’s completely far-fetched to have that in real life, ya know? Really, what kind of girl do you know that would fall in love with a monster? Let alone not run away at first glance.”

Yoohyeon blinks, her expression too serious for Bora’s liking. “Unless she’s into furries or something.” Bora remarks, hoping to see her best friend crack a smile.

But Yoohyeon doesn’t, Instead she looks back out at the city, sighing as if trying to have a serious conversion with Bora was almost impossible, if not just draining. However, that’s not really it, and Yoohyeon feels a bit hopeless in trying to subtly sneak in her truth without just up and telling Bora: _“So I keep having these dreams about Kim Minji, I have been ever since your cousin’s wedding where I almost fell asleep in Siyeon on the ride back home, and before we found the body. And I don’t know why this is, but my mom used to tell me this story about this sad woman who lived in this huge mansion all by herself. All she had was this vineyard full of grapes. So every year she watched the seasons change and waited for someone to come along and kiss her…..And, like, I can’t help but to link those two women together. It’s been driving me crazy ever since I found that newspaper. It’s like when I saw Kim Minji’s face for the first time...when I saw her eyes….It all clicked._

Yeah, she definitely can’t tell Bora all of that. Just the thought of telling Bora that she thinks Minji is somehow connected to a story that her mother used to tell her as a little girl makes Yoohyeon squirm around in her seat. However, this potent devouring feeling, that’s dining on her soul, has yet to ease up.

Yoohyeon shakes her head. “That’s not really what I meant...I mean more like bedtime stories. Do you think that maybe they’re real?” She asks, reverting back to the core of what’s had her unknowingly swayed ever since she had laid eyes on Minji’s image. 

“Bedtime stories?” Bora gawks, deadpan.

Yoohyeon nods firmly, wetting her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue once again. “Yeah, didn’t your mother ever tell you a bedtime story?” She asks softly, there’s no mockery or anything foul from within her tone. It’s a genuine question, one that Bora’s heart immediately sinks to her stomach after being asked it.

Bora looks back at the market’s neon signage, the colors blinding her burning eyes. But even then Bora can see snippets of the past, moments from within her youth. She can vividly recall the the trembling silhouette of her mother standing by the living room’s window sill, weeping, crying out for Bora’s father--who would never return, no matter how much Eunseo or Bora had scream at the winds from them to return him, as if a powerful gust of air had took him away from them, and not the sheer fact that Bora’s father had left on his own terms, for he had been more than willing to.

Bora’s mother had spent so many years of Bora’s childhood crying the days away. There wasn’t any room for a moment of tenderness, a time where perhaps Eunseo might’ve had strength to spin a story with a happy ending. 

A type of a happy ending that walked out on her before it was given the opportunity to be told.

Bora’s throat bobs. She swallows down the painful lump that had been lodged in the middle of her aching throat. “Not really.” She confesses, her tone sounding somewhere far away; matching the look on her face.

Yoohyeon’s heart ticks away. She looks Bora’s way again, sees how Bora’s jaw is clenching tightly as she looks off into the distance, searches for a time that she’s never had--looking for the little girl that she was, a child scared of the future because she thought she had no place in it.

Yoohyeon doesn’t know whether to release the apology on the tip of her tongue, the apology that holds so much sympathy for Bora’s childhood, just the parts that Bora has made known through very brief implications that it wasn’t ideal, (Although her childhood was far from perfect Bora wouldn’t exchange it for another. As shitty as it is to say--it’s what made her into the person she is today.) or if she should hold her tongue, allow the small silence to wash over them as it had before.

Even though silence is a defeating thing, sometimes it’s easier to lose to the quiet than to scream for the stillness to understand. 

It’s easier for Bora to not hear the pity of someone else, as to not feel the true gravity behind what’s it was like for a child to behave as if she were years older than what she should’ve been, than to realize that her childhood was stolen from her the moment she started shooting her mother’s fine china in the backyard with her BB gun.

Yoohyeon knows this, and as difficult as it is, she refrains herself from apologizing. Instead she reaches across the console of the car, and ever-so-softly takes a hold of Bora’s leather jacket’s cuff, gently squeezing the fabric underneath her fingers as she forces her eyes to look away from Bora’s heart-rending expression.

There’s a heavy pause. One of the heaviest pauses Yoohyeon has ever felt. Insomuch, she was holding her breath, waiting for the moment when either Bora would finally speak, or jerk her own arm away.

Yoohyeon wouldn’t blame her, if that’s what Bora chose to do.

But Yoohyeon should know better, know that Bora would never, ever, do such a thing.

Yoohyeon’s breath leaves her in the form of a shaky exhale the moment that Bora places her own hand on top of hers, giving it a quick, like a fraction of a second, squeeze. Before Bora sighs, as if she’s been holding that one in for the last twenty-five years.

“I don’t know if fairytales or bedtime stories are true. They seems impossible.” Bora starts off quietly, gaining Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes on her again. Bora looks her way, intertwining her own dark eyes with Yoohyeon’s. “But I like to believe that maybe there is a happy ending after all this.”

Even if unrealistic….It keeps Bora grounded to have hope in something that isn’t easily comprehensible.

Her conspiracies, her theories when dealing with police-related situations, while crazy to most, they make sense in Bora’s mind. There has always been foreseeable evidence, and a trail to follow when it comes to matters that are worldly; when it comes to Bora who is a realist.

Fairytales and childish stories that mothers tell their children seem to belong to the dreamers of the world, to people like Yoohyeon; who dreams too big, too much that sometimes Bora can’t help but to wonder how that girl doesn’t get lost up there somewhere in clouds.

Maybe that’s why they’re so different, but yet the same.

For Bora has never found the pathway that leads to a happy ending because maybe it’s up somewhere in the clouds, a place that Bora is too scared to get off the ground and go find.

And Yoohyeon has seen the world for how wrong it truly is, deciding it’s better to dream up a magical tomorrow than to live in the moment of today. Or maybe Yoohyeon hasn’t hit the ground hard enough to learn that sometimes people can’t find their happy ending, and some...some aren’t deserving of it.

But more often than not, isn’t the opposite true?

Maybe the world needs its realists to keep the dreamers from flying too close to the sun.

And maybe the world needs it’s dreamers so that maybe the realists can one day get off the ground.

Bora knows she needs Yoohyeon, and she doesn’t doubt for one minute that Yoohyeon needs her also.

Their whole story, their journey to friendship sounds sort of like a fairytale, feels kind of fated Bora has often thought.

So, maybe there is some truth to all that Disney shit.

Maybe after all this is said and done both Bora and Yoohyeon will get their happy ending.

Bora will hold out hope for that much, but as far as believing in _folklore_ or childish bedtime stories, she’s not so sure she’ll ever be on Yoohyeon’s level of believing.

Not until Bora is forced to open her eyes and learn that stories do in fact gain their inspiration from somewhere.

That sometimes what people dream of, is very much a real thing.

Yoohyeon nods, seemingly accepting that as an answer. It gives her some comfort that Bora believes in something that others would brush off….Which sparks a flame for her next question.

Yoohyeon fidgets with her cross necklace, using her free hand to gently tug it from side to side. A deep feeling of conviction tugging at her heart, pulling it underneath uncharted waters threatening to drown it whole should she not ask the question she has longed to ask Bora for a very long time.

But she is absolutely terrified of offending or upsetting her best friend, terrified that the weight behind this unfathomably heavy question might crush them both underneath it’s complicated dogma.

But the moment that Yooheyon feels Bora’s thumb skim over her ker knuckles, leaving this angelic-like touch upon Yoohyeon’s soft skin; Yoohyeon can’t stand the thought that maybe one day they won’t be together anymore--that maybe they won’t get their happy ending together.

Separated by the matters of thine soul.

“Can I ask you a heavy question?”

Bora nods. There’s so much reassurance that shines in her dark eyes that Yoohyeon swears it’s like that of an angel's halo’s soft pearlescent glow.

It’s so fitting that Yoohyeon is terrified how life seems to implement these moments of seemingly mundaneness with a layer of raw power behind them, a thick layer of contemplation of matters beyond what life shows itself to be.

Yoohyeon subconsciously clenches her hand tighter around her cross necklace, feeling the imprint of the cross press into the flesh of her palm.

It almost feels like a sin to ask.

“Do you believe in God, Bora?” Yoohyeon breathes out, as if it’s the last echoing words from a powerful sermon.

It shakes Bora to the core.

Her movements on Yoohyeon’s hand comes to a halt as Bora looks deep into Yoohyeon’s eyes, seemingly entering a state of rigor mortis as her heart ticks away like the loud ringing of a church bell. 

They’ve never talked about this before, about religion, about God.

It’s a side to Yoohyeon that Bora knows exists, evident by the golden cross that Yoohyeon wears around her neck, and has always worn around her neck ever since the moment that Bora met her. Yeah, and there was that one comment Yoohyeon had made about that poor man, the whole: “ _At least he’s in a better place.”_ But other than that Yoohyeon has never spoken of her beliefs, nor has she tried to secretly instill them into Bora.

It’s a change from all the other _‘Christians’_ that Bora has come across so far in life. Bora can still recall how much of an exile she had felt like when she attended a Sunday service with her mom on a one-off occasion.

She can’t even remember the sermon that the pastor had given that Sunday morning. Because the whole time all she could focus on was how everyone had stared at her, judging her because she didn’t wear an ankle covering dress. For she had chosen to wear a nice set of jeans and a nice white open button down shirt that day--it was the best she had. She can remember that she had even ironed that damn shirt that day, hoping to at least be acceptable to the piercing eyes of those which are supposed to leak out compassion; the understanding that not all those outside of the church are reckless sinners who need to be saved.

But that’s what she was to them, an outsider, a woman riddled to the brim with sin; a woman in their eyes that could not be saved.

It’s hypocrisy at its lowest, Bora wouldn’t dare say it’s finest.

She remembers the whispers that day, the back-biting allegations of her soul from people who aren’t even fitted to judge let alone be ordained by God to do so.

They can’t even see her heart, let alone her soul. What did they know?

What do they know about souls? Hardly anything if theirs is blacker than the night, and more hollow than the promises they swear to keep by their God.

They read the holy book, but understand nothing.

Bora remembers standing underneath the grand doorway to that church, looking back at its people with the words: “ _What makes you think you're worthy of heaven, but I’m not?”_ burning on the tip of her tongue. But of course she didn’t say anything. Instead she had turned her head around before walking out into the streets, never looking back.

As if she was Lot from the bible, for if she had looked back---would she have not been turned into a pillar of salt?

Ruined because her heart did not remain where it should have, at least in the eyes of others. 

However, with Yoohyeon there never was that presence of _holier-than-thou_ , and Bora has never felt that Yoohyeon has looked at her with judgemental eyes. Yoohyeon was always humble and kind, for she had always looked at Bora as equal. Never once did that girl come across as sanctimonious.

It gives Bora hope that maybe not all those who abide by teachings of a book, and live their life through grand spiritual meanings are bad people or people that are ‘blinded’ by their conventions of their own souls.

Maybe if it wasn’t for the hypocrisy of it all; the hypocrisy of the people who only value religion for the sake of saving face or to have a free pass into heaven if that’s what they think they’ll get, maybe Bora would’ve carefully dip her toes back into the murky waters of religion.

Maybe she would’ve even asked Yoohyeon to read her off a verse or two, like she does with English sentences when she's teaching Bora how to speak English. 

Maybe at one point in time the bible could’ve been Bora’s own personal bedtime story.

But now, all she sees is words that don’t make sense, teachings that people fail to live up to; a God that is forgiving but his people are not.

All except for Yoohyeon. 

Bora’s eyes fall to the car’s floor, a look of weariness contorting her pretty features. “I do, but I don’t.” She confesses, breathes it out in a shaky murmur; as if she was confessing to a life-long sin.

It feels freeing, but it doesn’t.

Although she’s not looking at Yoohyeon, Bora can feel the girl’s intense, but somehow gentle, gaze burning a hole through her head, as if Yoohyeon is trying to uncover the reason in which Bora is reluctant on opening her heart to something that’s beyond the verisimilitude that the world shows.

That perhaps there is something more than what meets the odd eye.

Bora knows that Yoohyeon would willingly wait forever until she’s able to give her a solid answer. Maybe that’s why Bora is able to find the strength in her weakened voice to speak once more, to tell Yoohyeon of her reasonings on the matter. 

“I think that maybe there’s something out there...It probably is God. I just-” Bora cuts herself off after feeling the corners of her eyes begin to sting. 

She doesn’t know why she wants to cry, she could blame it on the bitterness for having her experiences with religion ruined. She could blame it on the anger in which she holds for the people who act perfect but are not. She could blame it on the confusion, the conflicting feelings of believing in what she knows, what she can see; the realistic side that she has kept within her entire-being ever since her father left...or she could blame it on the feeling of hope that perhaps maybe there is a place that holds immeasurable joy. That there are such things as fated matters, and things set in stone for people to come across.

Maybe religion is a powerful thing that is destined.

Perhaps that realization is what’s threatening to bring tears to Bora’s eyes.

But none of fate’s reasons as to why her life is the way it is made sense.

“…..I’m not religious and I probably never will be. A few bad apples spoil the bunch, ya know?”

Yoohyeon nods quickly. Although Bora isn’t looking at her she can feel the power behind Yoohyeon’s nodding, as if that girl was agreeing because her life depended on it. However, Bora knows that’s not the case with her best friend. She knows that Yoohyeon understands where she’s coming from despite them being on opposite ends of this scale.

Bora’s heart feels as if wringing out all the sins from the past, letting these suffocating waters fill the entirety of the car; threatening to drown both her and Yoohyeon.

Bora slides her hand underneath Yoohyeon’s own before intertwining their fingers together, Bora holding on so firmly; its as if Yoohyeon is her life ring keeping her afloat. “I believe that there is more to life than just living as we do...I think I do believe in God and that maybe there is a heaven….I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get to it.”

Yoohyeon feels a part of herself die at Bora’s confession. It’s one of the worst pains she has ever felt in her heart before. Never has she heard, _seen_ someone have the courage to say what Bora had just uttered with certainty.

That heaven is something unattainable to her.

Bora watches-- _feels_ as Yoohyeon’s hand loses a bit of strength behind her hold, as if in that moment of truth Yoohyeon’s own soul had ascended from out of her body.

There’s a moment of heart-rending silence. A moment that neither officer would ever forget. Before Yoohyeon squeezes Bora’s hand back, holds it with so much gentle power that the earth seems to tremble at the strength within the American woman’s golden heart.

Yoohyeon brings their locked hands to her heart, holds them there until Bora looks up at her with those wonderful dark eyes of hers.

Dark eyes that have never judged the character of Yoohyeon’s soul, dark eyes that have looked upon Yoohyeon and saw amazing grace.

The same amazing grace that Yoohyeon knows is overflowing out of the chambers of Bora’s tortured heart; as there is sadness overflowing pass the brim of Bora’s dark irises, inviting Yoohyeon to take a dive into waters that neither of them can swim in.

A baptism that Yoohyeon hadn’t held her breath for.

Yoohyeon’s bottom lip quivers, and her heart beats uncontrollably from within her constricting chest, Bora feels each painful measure of Yoohyeon’s beating heart--and that is what brings the first set of tears to trail out from her own burning eyes.

Bora tries to pull her hand away to cover her glassy eyes because she feels ashamed, riddled with a dirty soul that only wishes to be pulled out of this mud, this hole from within her heart that she just can’t fill no matter how hard she tries.

This deep, never-ending, hole of not being enough.

But Yoohyeon refuses to let go, she keeps their hands intertwined, despite Bora’s grip not being as secure anymore, Yooheyon uses all the strength she can muster, while being gentle, to keep Bora here with her.

“How could you say that?” Yoohyeon sobs, hot tears streaming down her own face, “You’re deserving of heaven.”

It goes without saying to Yoohyeon that Bora is deserving of just that and so much more.

Bora shakes her head, refusing as more tears spill out from her red-tinted eyes.

Yoohyeon cries harder, shaking Bora’s hand in her own, as if that would jolt some sense into her best friend, chase away all the doubt that’s ever clouded her mind--evaporating that awful midnight smoke that Bora has inhaled into her lungs, breathed in without restraint because she had no other choice.

Yoohyeon has believed in God, heaven, and grander life meaning ever since she was born. These are things she holds close to her heart, as does she hold Bora’s hand there; as she holds Bora there.

They all seemingly fit, perfectly even.

From what she knows of Bora, which at this point is now everything, there isn’t even a minuscule fragment of doubt in Yoohyeon’s mind that Bora will be one of the first people at heaven’s golden gates.

And _-God-_ if she isn’t--then Yoohyeon doesn’t want to be in a place that doesn’t have Bora in it. She’d willingly throw her own eternity away, a time sealed with indescribable happiness, to be wherever it is that Bora may be.

It doesn’t matter where it would be as long as they’re together Yoohyeon would be happy.

Bora wipes her own tears away using the back of her free hand before laughing sorrowfully, a reaction that had crawled it’s way out of her chest, rose to the surface of her parted lips and left once she had heard Yoohyeon’s words.

 _Deserving?_ Bora has never been sure.

“ _Pabo._ Why are you crying?” She questions the girl, only to cry harder as the powerful trembling form of Yoohyeon’s body causes them both to vibrate in sorrow.

“Because I hate that you think you’re not good enough all the time.” Yoohyeon confesses, chokes out after she finally resurfaces from the flood of both her and Bora’s tears--Bora’s tears that seemingly had baptized them both with something that holy water never could have.

Miseducation.

The miseducation of a person’s soul

Bora locks her tear-filled eyes with Yoohyeon’s own eyes that are stained with tears, stained with a deep feeling of aching that she wishes Bora could free them both from. Because the choice truly is up to her, the decision to accept that she is _enough_.

That Bora has always been _enough_.

Insomuch that heaven is going to have to create another patch of land just for her. Because what's up there right now will never be enough to hold, to have, a soul like hers.

Bora can only stare at her, holding her own breath as if she’s waiting for the final wave to wash her away. She knows that Yoohyeon speaks truthfully, but this feeling is not something that her words can’t fix alone, there must be effort into filling this hole from within Bora’s heart.

There needs to be a mound of acceptance that Bora herself has to use to fill that hole.

It’s like accepting something spiritual into her heart, it’s something Bora must do on her own. But never is it backpedaling to have someone who wants to help restore a part of one's self.

Yoohyeon might not be able to fill that hole in Bora’s heart completely, but she will always grab an extra shovel and help toss in dirt, _toss in love._

“To me you’re more than enough. You’re limitless.” Yoohyeon cries before moving forward to wrap Bora into her warm embrace, crying as she holds her with so much love it feels like they’re both drowning in that feeling and no longer gasping for air underneath the waters of dejection.

Bora doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Yoohyeon’s small frame, practically pulling the poor girl into her lap as they both seemingly fall apart in each other's arms.

Yoohyeon cries into the crook of Bora’s neck, whilst Bora cries into Yoohyeon’s shoulder.

 _‘You are limitless’_ Bora has never been told that before.

She pulls Yoohyeon impossibly closer.

In that moment, something feels slightly filled in Bora’s heart, and she swears that even if she doesn’t make it to heaven she knows what it feels like. 

Because here with Yoohyeon in her arms, holding onto her with no signs of ever letting go--this feels like heaven to Bora.

***

In the heart of Busan, within the more so rural street markets, an innocent, helpless, Korean man runs.

The Ronettes “Be My Baby” plays through the streets intercoms, the song is the only thing piercing the silence of the seemingly ‘abandon’ if not just exceptionally quiet streets. Well, that and the man's labored breathing as he runs with the speed of someone who fears for their life.

Given the situation--it’s not off the mark at all.

_‘So won’t you, please, be my, be my baby.’_

From time to time he dares to look over his shoulder, expecting to see the faces of his assailants, but not once does he see them. However, he knows they’re near, for he can hear the markets’ stalls rattle, hear how the night’s cold breeze hisses with each inhuman movement.

_‘Be my little baby, my one and only baby.’_

The blood within his veins almost freezes, running cold with adrenaline, as beads of sweat roll down from his brow, slipping past his eyes that widen in pure ungodly fear.

_‘Say you’ll be my darlin’, be my, be my baby.’_

Just a few feet behind him a trash can falls to the ground, the sound of it’s collision echoes throughout the empty streets, prompting the man to let out an involuntary yell that is teetering on the edge of becoming a sob--for he knows they’re right behind him now.

Despite knowing his attempts at survival are futile he still presses on, drifting into a narrow alleyway.

_‘Be my baby now, my one and only baby.’_

_‘Wha oh oh oh oh’_

They say the human body will give up the fight when death is near, seeing as to how all things must come to an end and that death is inevitable. However, in the same breath it has been told that the soul fights to live--perhaps that is why when the man reaches a dead end...he has no choice but to try and fight back.

 _“GANGSIS!”_ He screams, calling out to them in trembling terror as he pulls a switchblade from out of his pocket. Truthfully he doesn’t really realize that what he refers to them as, a Chinese folklore that holds more truth than what anyone would care to know, is exactly what they are. 

However, these people, these monsters do not hop, or exist in a zombie-like trance. They’re quicker than the speed of light, some more than others, far more stronger than a bear or lion or even an elephant. They’re something out of horror movies, beings, that by all means, should only exist in tales that are fictional. 

Yet they live, but they do not.

In a blink of an eye, the three assailants are standing before him. Their eyes are as black as coal, minus the vibrant ring of red that outlines their pupils. The ivory skin on their faces is riddled with black veins that protrude up around their demonic eyes and seep out from their cheeks, making them look like they’re cracked or infected with some kind of rare ailment. 

They, by all means, look human, but when they flash their fangs, snarling as thick saliva drips down their teeth--the man knows they’re far from it. For he sees it in the way their hollow eyes stare him down in a predatory gaze, how they look at him with hunger pouring from out of their eyes, and how the call for his blood emits out in the sound of their empty stomachs growling.

What he doesn’t know is that his assailants are fledglings, created in the wake of Sanghoon’s uncontrollable binder; these three are just a few from the handful of stragglers that Handong has yet to destroy.

Despite being immortal now, they’re far more capable of being killed easier than what the Originals are.

This point is proven when one out of the two males steps forward, underestimating the power that some mortals hold--for the man sees the window of opportunity to strike his attacker, plunging his weapon forward; using all the steaming adrenaline in his body to sink his switchblade into the monster's unbeating heart.

Instantly the creature evaporates into thin air, leaving only a cloud of ash in his demise.

The look on the man’s face matches that of the remaining assailants, a look that middles somewhere between confusion and fear.

Neither party was expecting that.

Involuntary, the two immortals take a step back, frightened by learning that their new way of existing can easily be removed from them, that they can die once more should they continue to be reckless with their attacks.

The man looks at them, his eyes crazed, laced with the strong feeling of wanting to live. He points the switchblade in their direction, his hand shaking with fear. “Get. the. fuck. back.” He warns through gritted teeth, hoping that his threats go heeded and that maybe these things, these _Gangsis_ , would flee.

But evil has never been a fleeting thing, nor is it something that fears--no, for evil is the harbinger of fear, and it demands it’s share.

The immortals demand that this man’s blood be spilled, consumed by their endless hunger.

In another blink of an eye the man is taken to the ground, wincing in pain, seething in affliction that burns more hotter than fire as his assailants bite into the flesh of his neck and wrist.

He screams in agony as he struggles to free himself from his attackers' steel-like hold. But to no anvil can he free himself-- _he is going to die._

The immortals rip chunks of flesh from his body, feast on his blood with absolutely no tableside manners at all, as if it’s been decades since they last had something to quench their unquenchable thirst.

The man is far too weak to keep screaming, with no choice, no strength left in him, he is forced to spend the last measly moments of his life listening to the faint tune of that song as he drifts off into the unknown.

  
  


_‘I’ll make you happy, baby, just wait and see.’_

_‘For every kiss you gave me I’ll give you three.’_

_“Oh since the day I saw you.’_

_‘I have been waiting for you.’_

_‘You know I will adore you ‘til eternity.’_

_‘So won’t you, please, be my, be my baby.’_

***

After having one of the biggest heart-to-heart with Bora that Yoohyeon has ever had. The rest of their shift had gone by seemingly in a blink of an eye. After parting ways, leaving a silent promise of tomorrow in each other's eyes, Yoohyeon is now back home, lying down underneath her warm bed covers; thinking about fairytales, her best friend, God, and how they all seem to tie together like some perfectly sewn dress.

It’s not something easily comprehensible, but _-God-_ is it beautiful to Yoohyeon’s tired eyes.

However, there is still a heaviness settled somewhere deep within Yoohyeon, a certain feeling of uncertainty that rests it’s wrath in the fissures of Yoohyeon’s hopeful heart.

There is the uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring, in many ways then just one.

Piri Hills.

Meeting Kim Minji.

It’s all happening, it’s almost unreal to think about it all, just like the dreams that Yoohyeon keeps having. There’s so much uncertainty there too. Insomuch that when Yoohyeon closes her eyes, she prays that perhaps tonight her dreams will no longer contain Minji’s beautiful image, her image which has permanently engraved itself inside the endless patterns of Yoohyeon’s mind. 

Yoohyeon prays for a piece of mind, a dream that isn’t so ineluctable. She also prays for Bora, wishes for happiness and sweet dreams of her own.

Yoohyeon prays that they both dream of some kind of heaven tonight before heading into whatever the hell awaits them tomorrow.

.

Despite Yoohyeon’s prayers, her best wishes to avoid anything pertaining to the woman who’s riddling her entire-being, Yoohyeon’s consciousnesses searches for Minji through a series of uncompelling dreams.

Yoohyeon dreams of white walls, turning an endless amount of corners in hope that perhaps Minji would be on the other side.

Yoohyeon’s consciousness screams for Minji, pleading with the white walls to somehow make the woman appear.

But they do not grant Yoohyeon’s wishes, for they turn a deaf ear to her cries before plunging her into another dream world that is different from this one.

Yoohyeon dreams of a dark narrow hallway with countless doors framing each side of the walls. She opens each one, expecting to see Minji appear before her, but she never does.

Each time Yoohyeon opens an empty door her heart ticks away like the arms of a clock, like a bomb; threatening to explode from within her chest.

Only Minji’s image can stop the timer, but she’s nowhere to be found despite Yoohyeon searching endlessly for her while desperately calling out Minji’s lovely name, hoping that maybe the winery owner might eventually answer her back.

She never does.

These dreams seem to go on for a lifetime until something in Yoohyeon’s slumber-filled peregrination shifts and she finds herself running through a gloomy forest without the slightest awareness that she’s still dreaming. 

Because this one feels all too real.

Yoohyeon can hardly see her surroundings due to the heavy white fog rolling past the ancient zen trees, the eerie fog bearing a resemblance to that of smoke rolling out from a deadly fire, there is this ominous feeling that rolls along with the fog, a promise that wickedness is ensured.

Despite her weakened senses Yoohyeon can still feel a set of piercing eyes on her--feel the heady presence of _death_ chasing after her, so close already she can almost feel the cold breath of her assailant’s on the back of her neck.

Yoohyeon’s heart is beating so fast it's dangerous itself, the measures between each beat feel so short that it causes pain to take reign all throughout Yoohyeon’s chest, making her lungs burn as she sucks in air as if it’s a limited source.

She can’t explain, nor really understand why, but It’s like she can hear the melody in which the forest has composed just for her petrified soul to hear as she runs for her life within the confinements of this cursed scenery.

Yoohyeon can hear the keys of a piano being played, its notes being played with urgency and a rush pace that matches the sprinting collisions of Yoohyeon’s shoes hitting against the flat dirt of the forest. As the aged leaves of the tree tremble with movement, Yoohyeon can hear the sharp whistling of a flute emit from them, warning her with its terrifyingly-beautiful tune: _Don’t look back. Hurry, hurry, hurry._ Followed by the sound of Yoohyeon’s heartstrings being strummed across, matching the melody of a powerful violin.

Yoohyeon runs faster.

And the forest shudders in agonizing fear. 

The flute lessens in volume with its warnings as Yoohyeon weaves in and out through trees. Only for her to nearly stumble the moment that the violin plays hauntingly loud, but with a gentleness to it, a tune that tells her: _The end is coming my dear._

Yoohyeon can feel the ferocious power behind her assailant’s movements, feel how the earth shrivels up in trepidation with each lighting-like phase of speed that they utilize effortlessly to keep up with her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Yoohyeon screams out, her cry of distress echoing throughout the lifeless forest.

The piano's tune reaches it’s screaming Fortississimo while the sharp whistles from the flute pierces the forest’s veil once more.

Yoohyeon pushes on, running without any signs of slowing down, somehow hoping that in this damning outro she will find her way out of these woods, into safety, escaping whatever monster is chasing her.

The music screams out, seemingly in pain, it’s final ending notes as Yoohyeon sees a glimpse of light in the very far distance between the small silvers among the trees.

But she was never fast enough to outrun this _thing_.

Yoohyeon feels a set of dainty, but refined like steel, hands grab at her, clenching onto the ends of her shirt; knocking her off balance in Yoohyeon’s assailant’s failed attempt to pull her backwards. 

The music comes to a screeching halt the moment that Yoohyeon’s head hits the ground hard.

Seconds later, feeling no pain at all, Yoohyeon’s eyelashes ever-so-slowly flutter open, expecting to see the face of her assailant--only to be greeted by the sun which is covered behind a thin layer of clouds.

As Yoohyeon begins to come to her senses, she feels the soft blades of green grass tickling her face as she is lying down on her back, resting against the soft bed of wild daisies in this seemingly wide open meadow.

As the warmth from the covered sun still manages to heat up Yoohyeon’s skin, she can hear another melody play again, a gentle tune that this meadow plays for her.

_For them._

The wild daisies sway softly from the light breeze, which composes the heavenly sound of a harp’s chords being brush across, followed closely by the sad, but somehow sweet, sound of a lute’s chords being plucked, matching the rhythm in which a flock of doves fly overhead across the misty blue surreal sky, off to find a better tomorrow--off to find heaven which Yoohyeon is sure is right here.

She’s even more certain when the bed of daisies shifts, and a soft sigh is emitted into the air--a sigh that doesn’t belong to her.

But Yoohyeon knows who it belongs to.

Yoohyeon’s heart twists into knots, and frees itself; her heart dies, and lives once she turns on her side, following the soft melody of her lover’s breathing.

A sad dying rhythmic that breathes: _At last._

Yoohyeon knows who it is before their eyes even intertwine with one another, locking in this gaze that feels more intense than the passionate burning flames from within Yoohyeon’s heart.

Nonetheless Yoohyeon still gasps softly upon seeing the woman’s marble beauty, and those dark eyes--still full of _sadness._

Warm brown eyes were bound to get lost in cold obsidian ones.

Their irises swirl and dance together until they both are lost within the deepness of each other's eyes, the abyss of each other's hearts that pours out from their eyes and spills from their skin, like oozing ink from a pen.

Yoohyeon wants to dip a brush into the ink, draw the notes of this score playing in the background so that she’ll never forget what the sound of yearning is--to forever remember this tune that the other woman seemingly had orchestrated for her--for _them._

_Us. Us. Us._

It was inevitable that Yoohyeon would find Minji in her dreams yet again.

Or is it that Minji found her? Yoohyeon doesn’t really know, but what she is certain of is that she refuses to even speak, terrified that by uttering a single syllable it would break the spell and that Minji would no longer be staring at her with this indescribable look in her dark eyes that Yoohyeon just can’t read, It’s almost as if Minji is trying to read her mind right now; like she’s trying to understand why it is that Yoohyeon looks at her with so much, uncertainty, so much passion shining in her eyes that it makes Minji’s own eyes glisten with fear, as if any moment now Yoohyeon will leave her.

Neither of them are ready for that.

Yoohyeon doesn’t know if she should be scared of that realization or not. Or if maybe she should find this all uneasy--to be scared of the fact that she isn’t afraid at all.

The soft melody of sadness, _of longing_ , still plays throughout the meadow.

Another instrument is added once Yoohyeon’s heart begins to beat slowly, aware of the closeness she is sharing with Minji. The sound of a weeping clarinet plays achingly as both women carefully move closer to one another, drawn together by the magnetism of their hearts.

Shoulder to shoulder, side by side, Yoohyeon feels the seemingly chillness radiate off of Minji’s unblemished body.

Yoohyeon shudders.

But not due to the cold. No, Yoohyeon trembles from Minji’s pleasant touch, from her knuckles that are just barely grazing the soft skin along Yoohyeon’s cheekbone as she looks at the girl with so much fire in her eyes, it’s as if Minji’s burning this beautiful image of Yoohyeon into her mind forever.

Yoohyeon loses all her senses, for she releases them into the peaceful air the moment that Minji’s gentle hand cups the side of her face, using the smooth pad of her thumb to stroke the right side of Yoohyeon’s face, leaving these feathering touches that make Yoohyeon’s soul sigh in comfort, blissfulness, and truthfully sorrow.

Because everything about this dream seems torturous, a heart-rending scenario that could only belong to the wild fragments of Yoohyeon’s mind-- _Yoohyeon’s heart._ Her heart that is currently blooming with soft ache, stinging from the thorns that prick at the golden chambers of her heart. Because all of this feels so wrong, but right; like knowing when the answer to a question is always chosen wisely by that gut feeling, but yet Yoohyeon seeks the wrong answer.

For she knows that back in the real world Bora must be lying awake, worried about what it is that she is dreaming of. Not knowing that Yoohyeon’s dreams aren’t haunted by that poor man’s body, but Minji’s ethereal beauty.

Both of which are wrong.

Yoohyeon’s whole world seems to scream in blinding colors, and fade out instantly the second that she sees the heaviness behind Minji’s dark eyes. Even though they seem to hold the universe in them--the starry reflection that is Yoohyeon, there is also a silent statement, a harrowing truth seeping out of Minji’s even darker pupils: _It was wrong for you to come here. It is wrong for us to be together as we are._

Maybe it’s just Yoohyeon’s inter-consciousness ingraining that look, that thought; that truth into Minji’s eyes or perhaps even the fictional version of Minji knows that these dreams, this one more than the others, are inaccurate of what exists in the real world.

Regardless of which it is, Yoohyeon knows how illogical these dreams are, how wrong it is to dream about a woman who is nothing more than just another stranger outside of her dreams. 

However, Yoohyeon can’t stop her heart from screaming out: _Then let me go._ Only to hope that Minji doesn’t, for Yoohyeon wants to stay in this dream a while longer. She wants to keep feeling Minji’s tenderest of touches and how they leave the darkest of marks all across her heart; riddling her in shades that remind a twenty-two year old Yoohyeon of forbidden love. 

_A tale as old as time._

Yoohyeon doesn’t want all of Minji’s fictional ways to go to waste. For she wants it all written into her heart like words from a novel, a whole literary of yearning, of pain to remind her that none of this is real...But that said pain reminds her that _Minji is real._

Just this version of her isn’t.

Yet she feels somewhat real, and maybe that’s another reason why Yoohyeon should be scared--but she isn’t.

Yoohyeon eases into Minji, melts into her embrace once the woman wraps her unfathomably strong arms arounds her, cradling Yoohyeon inside the bed of flowers.

This is wrong, and Yoohyeon knows it. But it doesn’t stop her from resting the side of her head onto Minji’s chest, directly above her rattling heart.

The emptiness of it all, these dreams, these promises, and Minji’s hollow heart is what brings a set of warm tears to coat Yoohyeon’s eyelashes. She tries to slowly blink the tears away, at the very least keep them sealed behind her half-lidded eyes, but when Minji strengthens their powerful embrace, holding on as if both their lives depended on it; Yoohyeon can’t hold back a airy sob, choking on the heavy emotions between them as she wraps her own arms around Minji’s tone abdomen.

If this is a place akin to heaven, then Yoohyeon should be locked out of it. If it is wrong for her to dream of Minji like this, then Yoohyeon has sinned numerous times now.

However, Yoohyeon is willing to pay the piper, reap the consequences that not only does the real world await to bring to her, but her own heart.

_All in due time._

But for now that doesn’t matter to Yoohyeon, not when all she wants is bloom, and wilt underneath Minji’s touch; live for now, in the moment with each other.

Even though none of this is real. Yoohyeon chooses to accept that the fantasies of her mind, the storytelling from within her dreams all have gained inspiration from somewhere.

That in and of itself is true.

The doves in far distance coo softly, and Minji sighs once more as she threads her slender fingers through Yoohyeon’s brown locks of hair. 

The melody still plays throughout the meadow, tells Yoohyeon by the sounds of it’s tunes: _Rest now dear._

For the first time in a while Yoohyeon doesn’t hesitate to let her tear-stained lashes slowly glide down, closing her eyes all the way as she inhales a soft take of air, tasting that hint of Myrrh on the tip of her tongue.

Yoohyeon softly clenches unto the fabric of Minji’s elegant white lace spring dress before purposely inhaling one last breath of fresh air from the meadow before slumber beckons her to come.

Yoohyeon falls asleep to the beautiful music, and Minji’s soothing humming, whilst she fondly strokes Yoohyeon’s hair; enjoying the last few moments that this dream holds.

And at the very end of it--Yoohyeon is finally able to sleep peacefully.

.

Yoohyeon doesn’t wake up screaming, nor gasping for air. 

However, her heart seems keen on silently crying by itself within the walls of her chest. Yoohyeon can feel how it seizes and drops, sighs, and shatters from the remembrance of that dream.

Despite it being one of the more ‘peaceful’ dreams that she’s had, Yoohyeon would go as far as to say that one was the most painful. For there were far too many emotions, emotions that Yoohyeon still doesn’t understand.

Honestly there’s a lot that Yoohyeon doesn’t understand these days.

She could try to analyze it all, try to decode what this all means without simply brushing it off as just dreams, or that the only reason she keeps thinking about a certain winery owner is because she’s "allegedly" linked to this case, but that would mean something more.

It would mean that Yoohyeon wants them to be _something more_ than just dreams--wants another reason as to why she’s been dreaming about Minji nonstop for a while now...and quite frankly that scares Yoohyeon as much as confuses her.

To want something, but to not understand why.

It feels like a dangerous thing.

Yoohyeon places her hand over her cross necklace, silently praying for answers or at the very least a barrier of protection from whatever today will bring.

She speaks her prayers like a song- _no,_ like a story she heard when she was young, and she _believes it._

For she was always meant to.

***

In the morning the drive to the station is but all the same, yet different. The routine remains unchanged, unaltered in it’s mundane kindness, Bora’s consideration for Yoohyeon as to how the girl arrives at work and gets there safely under Siyeon’s golden frame and Bora’s watchful eye.

This has always been the norm, along with their daily stop at the diner always opting to fill their empty bellies with some breakfast.

This is the beginning where Bora notices that things are slightly different from what she's accustomed to.

First and foremost, Rosé’s usual brighten-up-the-room type of smile seems to be a bit blinding today, having this certain shine to it that illuminates her whole pretty face in this glow that Bora is only ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure has something to do with a another bashful teenager, one who Rosé may or may not be thinking about throughout the entirety of her shift.

_Love._

An invisible thing, yet it makes its presence known in the twinkle in Rosé’s dark eyes, or in that of the tunes she hums softly, full of blissfulness, as she makes her rounds throughout the diner; radiating this aura that is so tender it’s powerful, like that of soft rainfall, the kind that a person can hardly hear, but yet it’s enough, or like that of the light crunching of dead leaves underneath a shoe, a noise of the past now gone, but present in the future, or maybe even of that of streamers on a bike’s handlebars, drifting backwards but moving forward, a whisper of the wind in the song it sings: _I’ll go where you go._

Isn’t that love? A process of moving forward, a path that carries many winding turns and an uncertain fork in the road, but so long as the neverending stretch continues on--how could one ever want to stop?

How could one ever be expected to turn back?

Rosé walks the pathway of adornment, Bora sluggers along the trail of mystery; leading Yoohyeon by the hand. Bora not knowing that her best friend looks over her own shoulder every now and again and thinks about turning back.

.

With their stomachs full of breakfast, and their minds full of doubt, the road ahead looks full of promises; filled with secrets that neither women tell.

Bora sees the promise of a new beginning, perhaps even a resolvement to be bestowed to them once they find the answers they’re looking for at Piri Hills later today.

However, both women hold different questions.

Bora wants answers for this case, a conclusion to why suffering is dealt with bloody hands and hollow hearts. She wants a termination to Yoohyeon’s sleepless nights and her nightmares that should have never been created in the beautiful innocent gleam behind Yoohyeon’s closed eyelids.

Bora wants to feel the windup, the numbing tingle in her chest to explode in thousands of breathless colors when she brings the final verdict to Joohyun and receives that long awaited: _You did good._ Feel the replacement of Joohyun’s approval over her own father who would never show his approval for her in this lifetime. For he’d stayed lost forever in that midnight smoke, and Bora--she wouldn’t search for him, hasn’t before, and she never will.

She doesn’t need to see his face, feel the embrace of a father’s love. All she needs is to find the acceptance; the love within a mentor, a teacher--the love that is gentle but strong. 

Bora sees that in Joohyun, a caretaker. She won’t admit it out loud; perhaps she won’t even acknowledge that at one time she’d gladly allow Joohyun to swaddle her like a child, like a newborn lamb. But the feeling of familial love is there, and no matter how much Bora keeps pushing it down, drowning it underneath the waters of lesser self-worth--it always rises to the surface.

She tells herself by solving this case it will prove her abilities to all that’s ever doubted her, while true in of itself, there is also this festering feeling within her soul that needs to feel the tenderness, the power, behind _love._

To finally feel the restoration that it brings when the right person carries the watering can that can bring life to flowers, hearts that are wilted down to the root.

On the other side, in the passenger seat right next to her, Yoohyeon watches the city pass right by her.

The answers she seeks are not too far off from the mark of Bora’s own.

Yoohyeon wants to be by Bora’s side at the denouement. Yoohyeon wants to feel the pride swell up in her chest as Bora tells the final verses of the epilogue to this story, this case, for in Yoohyeon’s mind she knows it’s Bora who will be the one to solve this whole thing.

She just has to be, right?

In Yoohyeon’s perfect world, Bora is the one in the spotlight, and she is just the one shining the light on her; watching her with teary eyes that close in happy crescent moons as Bora takes the final bow, red curtains closing as Yoohyeon claps her heart out for her beloved best friend.

Because in this story, in Yoohyeon’s tale of her heart, Bora has always been the starring role.

And when it’s all over, the ending to it all, Yoohyeon hopes that she can turn around, melt into strong arms that would wrap around her waist and pull her closer before Yoohyeon leans forward, like that of a scene in a movie, slowly, promising, full of hope, and kiss the love of her life in manner that stages would crumble, rapture the audience in feeling behind the sheer power that kiss would hold.

A kiss that would break any curse.

As the crowd would holler, and clap, in joy that never could be exchanged, cheer for an encore of all in which they have just seen--Minji would open her eyes and they would be filled with _happiness._

Would that not be restoring?

Wouldn’t that be the happiest ending to a beginning that held no joy?

Yoohyeon would like to believe so.

It’s all stories, fairytales, and folklore.

All of which have more questions than they ever did have answers.

There has always been air to their mysteries, a uncertainty behind the certainty in which people tell these crazy sayings. _“If you throw salt over your shoulder you’ll hit the devil in the eye.”_ But what if he's standing behind the other shoulder? - _“Don’t walk across a grave because it will wake the spirit.”_ But what if it's already awake? - _“Don’t walk under a ladder. It will bring bad luck.”_ But what if it’s the only path you have to walk? - _“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.”_ But what if you have no mother? - “ _Don’t cross your fingers when you make a promise, otherwise you’ll lie.”_ But what if the intent to break was long before the promise was made? - “ _Be careful of the writing on the wall.”_ But what if it’s poetry written about the ones we love?

People believe in superstition, but the thought of believing in kissing a toad so that it shall become human, shall become whole, is more taboo than that of legends told within the dark. 

Yoohyeon chooses to believe that happy endings are real, that perhaps love can transform a person.

That despite the myriad of unanswered questions within stories--love can simply answer it all. 

In it all, the reason behind all of this whether known or not, Yoohyeon subconsciously seeks for the answer as to why all those years ago something grabbed onto her heart and hasn’t let go since.

Doesn’t realize that her answer lies beneath the hollow gleam in Minji’s obsidian eyes, and that she prays to tell Yoohyeon one day in the form of trembling lips as she kisses the girl in a manner as if she might break her, soft but unyielding. 

But neither of them know that.

_Soon._

In the last remaining moments of the car ride before Bora and Yoohyeon start their shift for the day, the last obstacle in their way before making their way to Piri Hills, Bora looks over to her best friend, meeting Yoohyeon’s gentle gaze.

There, within the amber flakes of Yoohyeon’s warm brown eyes, Bora sees the difference.

She doesn’t understand it.

All she can do is be open-minded, think how Yoohyeon’s smile, direct towards her, is supposed to be happy; suppose to appear that way at least to bring some kind of comfort to Bora’s weary thoughts. But Bora has been around Yoohyeon long enough to know a forced, entirely sad, smile when she sees one. 

But what can she do other than take notice of the change and smile back, resigned. Because she knows- _feels_ that Yoohyeon is keeping secrets now.

 _It’s for the better._ Bora has to tell herself, believe that when Yoohyeon keeps her secrets hidden underneath those amber flakes it’s because she’s weaving and spinning a story, a tale, in all her childish purity--that when Yoohyeon reaches forward to give Bora’s shoulder a soft squeeze it’s a silent promise that the ending to all this will be a happy one.

_A happy ending._

Bora doesn’t pray that it will be, but _-God-_ she hopes it will be, carries that faith that with Yoohyeon anything is possible.

As Bora continues to drive them to the station the car’s radio plays a weather report for the day. Meteorologists are predicting, even calling, this thunderstorm scheduled to occur later in the evening, the worst storm of the year.

But right now, the sun is shining brightly, and there isn’t a single dark cloud in the sky. It’s almost crazy to think, to know, that in a few hours all of the light will be washed away by the uncompromising storm.

It’s funny, but in a manner that isn’t humorous, to think about how things can take such a turn despite the promises of today; of the now.

Bora sneaks one last glance over to catch Yoohyeon staring out from the passenger’s window, longing clearly shown on her features--as if she’s looking for something that isn’t out there.

_A happy ending._

Bora wants it.

But like the storm that will flood the grounds, lighting that will scorch flowerbeds, thunder that will burst hearts open.

Won’t there be a cost for such a thing?

***

Handong sits underneath the grand white pergola, climbing plants embroidering the whole structure in it’s fairy-like elegance. Pass the greenery, the blooming flowers that riddle the vines of the climbing pants, Handong can see from the entryway of the frame, the gravel from the long winding road, notes how either side is laced with statuesque trees, continuing on like rows of dominoes as far as the eye could see.

This place is like a maze, an ethereal labyrinth one could easily get lost in: be absorbed by its beauty--unaware of all the suffering this land holds. 

In the close distance, the bushes scattered across Piri Hills’ acreage sway back and forth in the pleasant breeze. In the far distance the strong mountains, that take up nearly half the land within the South Gyeongsang province, stand still, leaving a silent promise to forever watch over those who dwell in this land.

They promise--because they have no other choice.

Right underneath Handong’s chair, Nannan sleeps, purring in contentment as she dreams about Handong’s ever-lasting smile.

Not much is different in the real world, Handong sits, letting the sunlight warm her cool skin as she smiles; observing the land. She watches how the skin of the grapes from Minji’s vineyard catches a reflection of light from the sun, a quick white glare running off the dark skin of them, sending a signal of its presence. A reminder that in the darkness--a light will always find its way through.

It is true. Handong supposes. That no matter how long one keeps their eyes shut, is there not still flickers of white light? A promise that in a life, an eternity full of ebony, there will be anew.

Something to keep living for.

 _‘If you smile, how can they know your struggles, dear? Smile, show them that you’re strong, that you’re fearless. The day you stop smiling is the day that your trespassers have won.’_ Those tilted grounds speak to her--Handong’s mother’s voice still not forgotten after all these years.

Nor had her advice been for not.

 _I miss you._ Handong wants to say, acknowledge that truth within the dark depths of her soul. It would be kind, it would be merciful. It would be a part of herself that she'd have never lost if it wasn’t for the ascension.

But that would mean reliving, revising, returning to a memory that’d show that Minji wasn’t the only one who had watched with yearning, a heart-rending longing for something that they cannot have, through a _window._

It would mean that Handong would stop smiling, and she’d lose herself to those tilted grounds, die in the war of her trespassers.

But those who sought harm on her and Minji are long-dead, ripped apart by their changed hands on the same night of that ascension.

But the ghosts of the past, the trespassers of Handong’s heart, still live.

As do those that were bitten by snakes cursed by the ancestors, snakes that had rolled down those mountains like coins and brought waste to that faithful, _damned,_ village.

It couldn’t be helped.

After showing no mercy on Sanghoon, giving mercy to Minji in the form of Pie and Cherry, and knowing that the Originals believe _not_ in such things. Handong wonders can she, can Minji, can the world in which they loathe, be helped?

Or is this eternity to be spent knowing, learning, that the ancestors only brought suffering to them all because they refused to help themselves--fix a broken part of who they were; to heal their souls, to bring fourth light in places that carried none.

The surviving woman, a few villagers, changed that night because they refused to help Minji, to help Handong; for they ran and hid from ancestors’ wrath, from fate, who still rained down it’s powers, it’s teachings of what selfishness does, what it consumes.

Minji was changed that night; to be changed from what she was shaping herself into.

Both which have never been something good.

Perhaps that is why Handong was changed too. To observe that fate sometimes gets things wrong, but it doesn’t.

Not even now as the vines from Minji’s vineyard seem to shrivel inwards slightly, to the stock. A sign of the wicked storm that is coming.

But the storm of the weather is still hours away--as is Yoohyeon and Bora’s arrival.

However, a storm does approach this very moment, heading right towards Piri Hills; right towards Minji’s manor.

Handong sees the dark clouds in the form of a 2019 black Cadillac Escalade, hears the roar of thunder in the gravel crunching up underneath the vehicle’s tires; feels the lighting strike her core the moment that the estate’s black iron gates slowly open, screeching in dread as Handong sees the faint outlines of the immortals within that car--that chariot of hell.

Immediately Handong seeks shelter, scooping up Nannan in her arms as she runs, leaving the pergola in a blink of an eye; yelling Minji’s name with powerful, trembling even, urgency.

_Their trespassers are finally here._

***

_Three years after attempting to drown herself inside the Han river, at the age of twenty-one, Minji’s ravenous hair still smells like the scent of hibiscus water. The scent chlorinated into the strong roots embedded in her scalp; a token left for her from the passing of the various flowers that float down the Han river in a sentiment that like the river that flows--life goes on._

_On that fateful day, or perhaps the better word would be cursed, it was one of the coldest days Minji can recall; freezing even for early spring. The sturdy branches of the trees had their lively leaves restored and the wild flowers that riddled the countryside were just starting to bloom again, in a manner that the petals unraveled in the shape of a mouth hanging open; as if they knew beforehand what the day would bring--a scene that they’d witness that would instill shock, horror, grief._

_For they would see a harrowing tragedy begin, but not be able to finish._

_Mother nature’s tenderhearted scenery would see Minji tie burlap sacks around her ankles, with just enough weight in them to keep her underneath the water, a hair below the surface; so when she went--she went looking at the sky one last time._

_Minji doesn’t remember how long she had been underneath those freezing waters, it had felt like a lifetime as much as it had felt like mere seconds._

_With the last ounce of air fizzling out, burning inside of her lungs, it had seemed that her life would be over; for Minji remembers the bright light, not that of the sun. It was a light beyond this world, this realm, this tainted existence--it was beautiful. Minji can recall the low hum, washed out and faded underneath the river, a song of the times; remember how scared she was, but wasn’t._

_For that light held a promise that everything would be okay._

_She had reached out for it, nearly had it’s saturated shade of golden whites skimming the tips of her fingers. When all seemed to be over, when all seemed to be lost but found; Sanghoon had pulled her out of those waters._

_He had saved her life._

_For her, “For you.” - “For us.” He’d say._

_But to Minji, he had saved just another day, prolonged the existence of someone who did not want to be saved._

_She had cried in his arms, screamed out all the water, spilling out of her lungs like an exorcism; drained her for all she was worth._

_To most she wasn’t even worth the price of a bale hay._

_Sanghoon had cried back, held her in his unfathomably strong arms; surprising for a man who had all of his strength beaten out of him by his own brother. He had not asked her, “Why? - “How could you do this to yourself?” - “Do you wish to die?” He didn’t need to demand answers, plead for reasons as to why Minji wished to leave this place; to leave the earth older than what she was, changed due to her upbringing. To leave far too knowing, too much urbane by the demanding poise of men and wicked women alike._

_To leave with a part of her true self that had remained unaltered before it could be changed._

_For he knew her reasonings, and blamed her not for having them. No, for he blamed others. The Aristocrats, nobility; the greed of it all. He blamed men, those who seek perfection in women; never understanding the heart is what brings beauty not the polishment of the body. He blamed the women, who gossip, tell tales of lies; laced with envy, jealousy because they could never even so much as obtain a pinch of the gracefulness that his beloved niece carried effortlessly--for she always had it, born with it; bloomed like the rose of life from within her tormented soul. He blamed his own brother, the list of sins that he carried out was longer than the book that carried the names of those condemned to the depths of hell. Surely his brother's name would be in it?_

_Sanghoon blamed himself._

_For he could’ve protected Minji, he could’ve tried to save her; run away with her in the search of a better life._

_But the consequences of what that would bring would always outweigh the hope, the dreams, the courage he needs in order to make a change._

_Sanghoon would dive in freezing waters, without even so much as holding his breath to save Minji, but never--never would he take the plunge into the unknown to save them both._

_He can be selfish too. He knew this. He can also be benevolent in all the aching love he holds for his niece._

_Minji’s sobs had wracked against his body, anguish so powerful she couldn't keep it all to herself anymore; so she shares it with her uncle. Let’s it consume them by a prime number, however, feel it’s strength in odds._

_Sanghoon had held her tight, didn't say anything as they both cried out the remaining water from the river; had let their dreams go--had let them float down the forgiving waters of the Han river, and never saw them again._

_Now here they both are, Minji with hibiscus water still stuck in her hair, out of her lungs, and the memory of that fateful day somewhere far in the back of her mind--but kept close to her heart._

_As is Sanghoon, who stands by the grand dining room’s door, unmoving, his head low, chin to his chest; yet he looks at Minji from underneath the lashes of his dark eyes. He watches yet another etiquette course be taught to her by his own brother, Yongsaeng._

_Yongsaeng watches Minji with piercing eyes, sharper than the deadliest blades, more dangerous than the scorching venom of a snake._

_His niece’s lesson today is table decorum, how to present oneself at the standings of one’s court; a proper hostess above all else. For the means of others is everything, Minji has learned that through Yongsaeng’s own ‘needs’._

_Minji stands at the end of the table, looking Yongsaeng in the eyes, but somehow not, as he sits at the far opposite end. For he closely observes how she carries herself, her shoulders are ever-so-slightly slumped, unacceptable. Her smile is all wrong, too much teeth; not captivating at all, unacceptable. Despite being in the most gorgeous white lace spring dress, handpicked by Yongsaeng himself, Minji does it little favors._

_Her whole entire poise has been off since they started the lesson, and Yongsaeng can feel his patience running very thin. However, he refrains from violence for now, knowing that The Lady will be here shortly._

_She doesn’t like witnessing the beatings, for she often tells him: “Do not spare your hands from her, but keep your wits. Punish the girl in private, away from peering eyes. She is deserving of what she gets. But do not allow anyone to make what you do to her their business.”_

_It feels like a secret, Yongsaeng promises to keep._

_So for now he’ll allow his wrath to stir. But he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to smack his niece across her face, shatter the beauty she carries that reminds him of his late sister, the moment that Minji rings the handbell too loud, too high above her chin._

_Unacceptable._

_Yongsaeng slides his chair back, the wooden legs scream in rage, Minji’s heart screams in terror._

_Sanghoon can do nothing but flinch, and try to conceal his own fear away as Yongsaeng ever-so-slowly rises from his seat, a hollow look contorting his aged features._

_“When you ring the bell you're supposed to ring it with grace, softly, gentle, like rain.” He informs Minji of her first mistake as he smiles in a way that looks so foreign, so wrong. “The sound bow is to be level with your chin, aligned at the same height.”_

_Yongsaeng takes a step forward, Minji cannot take a step back._

_“When you address the table, you address them with a smile, not so much teeth, but not too little either.”_

_Minji’s heart is racing as Yongsaeng closes in on her. He approaches her calmly, friendly even, his smile twisting into something. Sanghoon can’t look away, gawks at his brother with dread in his heart--fear in his eyes._

_Yongsaeng is right by her side now, leaning in so close Minji can feel his breath hit the shell of her ear. Yet she remains unmoving, her obsidian eyes locked forward on the burgundy wallpaper of the dining room’s walls._

_She doesn’t flinch, nor shudder at the feeling of her uncle’s hand coming up to rest on an area further down from the small of her back._

_“Stand taller, otherwise how will they see you, my dear?” Yongsaeng presses his hand into Minji’s skin, prompting her to ‘fix’ her posture._

_“Perfect.” He squeezes the soft flesh, holds it like it belongs only to him._

_Sanghoon knows what is happening, sees it from the small corner of his eye. But he does nothing to stop it. Tears start to sting at the corners of his ruined eyes, he begs the gods to help his niece._

_But gods don’t listen to the meek._

_From behind her, far past, long dissociate, of her uncle’s fowl hand, Minji can feel the warm sunlight seeping in from the windows; hitting her back--coating her in warmth that would like to tell her: My dear, the suffering will be over soon._

_She doesn’t need to look behind her to know how lovely the meadows outside of the manor look, the meadows past her mother’s vineyard. She knows the entirety of their beauty by heart, remembers it by the plans, the hidden dreams she often has about running away._

_She often dreams about it, almost so much she has to tell herself that those childish, unattainable, dreams are just that--dreams._

_However, it doesn’t stop her from thinking about it, imagining how it would be to leave on a day where her uncles would be gone on business. It would be a sunny day, one of the brightest in South Korea’s knowledge. The birds outside would sing for her, beckon her to follow her heart; deer would hop across the meadow and leave a trail in the tall grass to which she could follow. Wilted flowers would bloom again, and songs about love would sound true; Minji would sing them along the way--belt out the notes in pure reviving joy._

_She wouldn’t look back either, not even so much as sparing an over the shoulder glance at her mother’s manor one last time. However, she’d wish the greatest, the breaking of one’s heart, goodbye to her from within the chambers of her own heart. Perhaps even scream to the heavens that she wishes that the path, the new life, she follows will somehow lead her to a place that her mother resides in._

_Her mother had died back in that manor, a lost Minji will feel forever despite not once feeling her mother’s touch; the embrace after birth into this horrible world._

_No, for she lost her to it._

_But maybe, just maybe, her spirit is out there, waiting for the day that Minji will find her--to finally feel the embrace of love without restrictions._

_Unconditionally._

_She should be out there, right? In spirit?_

_Minji believes so, remembering after learning the truth behind her mother’s death, on the day of her eighteenth birthday, she had opened every window, every door and cried out for her mother’s spirit to be free, to leave this place that destroys souls, never once did it flourish them._

_“Be free! Don’t stay here. Be free.” She had cried, wielded it, using what little strength she had left, with everything she had._

_“Run, don’t look back for me.” Her heart had pleaded as she sunk to the ground, fallen on her knees like a prayer; her fragile hand clenching onto the door knob, the door wide open giving the perfect view, a tantalizing look that she could run too should she choose to._

_But she could not._

_At this moment, with her uncle’s hand trailing further down, Minji thinks about running away again._

_She thinks about a sunny day, her mother, and even what the villagers would say._

_It would be funny, yet a thing without humor. The townsfolk would gossip, whisper, among each other with a look of pity, a shaking of their mighty heads, their hands clench over their hearts because their regret of not knowing, their burden of projecting false scenarios, fake times, into a empty space is far more stronger than the sympathy they do not feel for her. For they’d say with with a sigh, a rejection of not knowing how some truth lies within their speculations--their fables: “Kim Minji, Daughter of Kim Haeun, was destined to fall; to toss her head into the mud and wallow in the afterlife as all her wealth and riches spoil, rot in the land which she once called home. A daughter of a widow, a daughter without her mother; doom from the start.”_

_They’d say that, and so much more._

_And all of it would be wrong, for in truth Minji would’ve left on her own terms, not by the wallowing of the mud, or the loss of reasonable thought._

_She would be free, finally, she’d be free._

_Minji would laugh as she spins around in an open meadow, the end of her hanfu tickling her ankles as she feels the unyielding blooming of freedom, springing to life like the flowers in the field; like the happiness within her heart. Her eyes would be closed in happy crescent moons and the sun’s warm ray would coat her skin in this heavenly glow as her soul fills up with butterflies, to which she’d release a joyous squeal, and say, “Mother wait for m-”_

_“Now try once more, but with feeling. Keep your head high, but dignified Show your court how much of a true heiress you are. Sedate them with decorous, and make them fear you for your majesty.” Yongsaeng speaks, his tone low and firm; shattering all of Minji’s dreams--destroying her soul as he steps away from her, gesturing for her to show all her glory; to prove to him that his teachings, and that The Lady’s hard work have not be for nothing._

_This moment is the reminder that Minji can never run, for the fear of the unknown--the consequences of finding happiness, is far more terrifying than accepting what she knows._

_More terrifying than staying here._

_“I have nothing left.” Minji wants to say, but she has nothing left in her to say it with._

_Now she must begin again._

_Sanghoon watches Minji’s whole demeanor change in an instant. As she raises her head high, aligns the end of the handbell to be level with her chin, Sanghoon sees that his beloved niece is changing, right at this moment. He doesn’t see the same innocent girl who had almost drowned in the Han River, he sees someone else entirely. A young girl submerged in grief, a young woman who had almost drowned in the murky waters of it; a woman who now seeks to drown the world._

_Minji forces a smile, then rings the bell._

The bell rings perfectly.

All eyes are on Minji as they should be, drawn to her unmistakable, unwavering beauty; her craft that she has perfected. Her posture is immaculate, her smile is the perfect amount of teeth, gleaming from the reflection of the sun, the white glare running across her teeth like a wink, a graceful promise that she could tear off all the Originals heads if she wanted too. Oh, if she wanted too.

Yongsaeng would be eating his own black heart out right now if he was still alive.

Minji sits the handbell down, gracefully. She looks to her guest, takes in the three women’s ivory beauty, their long dark hair, and even darker eyes; like the abyss of a night’s sky. Yet their ageless eyes twinkle, with admiration, fear, and the uncertainty of this meeting. The three men seated at their sides, linked together by their arms; bound by the ruling of their hearts for their ladies. The men appraise Minji’s demeanor, gulp at the power she holds effortlessly.

The six of them liken the ethereal heiress to that of The Lady, linking them together like the chain of a necklace and the glistening eye of a jewel, a blood diamond--confined by its beauty, by it’s _lady._

“My friends.” She addresses them, smiling the same smile that’s painful for her to wear as she looks them all in their eyes, one by one.

She hates them all.

Handong suppresses the smile curling at the corners of her delicate lips, for she shares Minji's disdain for the people, now immortals, who had looked at her as an alien, a foreign thing that didn’t deserve to be in _their_ country.

The animosity between China and South Korea has lasted for years, and Handong does not doubt that she will forever spend an eternity subject to racism and hatred.

The world cannot turn solely on good only; evil must blow it’s fiery breath on the earthly pinwheel to keep it going. Such things are inevitable.

“It has been quite some time since we last saw each other.” Minji tells, her court nods. “It is unfortunate that we are reunited by such worrisome events.”

The Originals are back, returned to the South Gyeongsang province because of Sanghoon’s actions, his wake of destruction, and change.

As premeditated, extremely calculated, and hidden with the stealth of ghosts, Minji nor Handong could keep the Originals in the dark forever. Despite how pretentious, how self-absorbed, living for centuries has made them--when the world screams in terror all that reside in it must look.

Now here they are again, the people who had looked at Minji and had shaked their _stupid-fucking-heads_ at her, pitying not the girl who had been done wrong all those years ago, now sitting in her dining room praying for answers; guidance on their next move. How can they all work together to destroy the last remaining fledglings, keep their way of existing hidden from the peering eyes of the world, and go on as if none of this ever happened? These are things they wanted to know.

Ironic to be asked for tellings of hope from people who had once saw none in her-- _”Kim Minji a lost cause.”_ they had all but spoken with their unperfected tongues; tongues that Minji has longed to rip out from their _fucking cruel mouths._

Handong watches as Minji eases their heavy tensions, their aching fear; all their raised shoulders drop--the weight once on them, removed. Not once did these people ever do the same for her, _for them._ It goes to show just how much of a perfected hostess, a powerful heiress; the ‘ideal’ woman Minji has become. She has grown past their exceptions and laughed, spitting in their judging eyes; humming in amusement because these are the people who are now afraid of girl who once had been afraid of the whole wide world.

But now Minji does not fear, she hates, and hates, _and hates._

She could use all that hatred she carries, wield it like a sword and split the unforgiving world in half; and regret how the immortals before her had suffered the snakes’ bite.

_The curse._

The ancestors had been merciful, for their mighty hearts had cried for Minji and Handong when they had bear witness to how all those in the village, that couldn’t be helped, had left the two women to die.

In all of the ancestors’ wrath, in all of their grief, they had commanded snakes to roll down the mountains; they had tainted the serpents’ venom with hunger and demanded they bite the flesh of all those left in the village.

It was the price to pay for their selfishness, their abstinence from helping the helpless. They worried more about living to see another day, plotted on how to keep themselves fed--the villagers had left Minji and Handong to die, to _starve_ in the last moments of their lives.

So like the greed, the hunger for perfection, that had changed Minji--those bitten by the snakes, those saved from the wrath of Minji’s killing hands, were to suffer the same fate.

To live forever, to hunger forever; to hear the call of blood and surrender to it.

It was deserving.

Handong listens on, watches Minji with her all too knowing eyes as the heiress promises that she and Handong have got this whole ordeal under control.

They believe her, but one does not. 

By the foyer, Nannan’s ears twitch. As she hears the sound of a car door shut, and the sound of taken steps with light movement, quite like rain; coming close to the manor’s front doors.

“You have nothing to fear. You can return to your homes and stay rest assured that Handong and I will take care of the remaining fledglings.”

In the same breath Minji can’t help but to wonder who else is going to show up at her home unannounced.

Back in Busan, Yoohyeon is telling Bora how her mother finally texted her back; told her to expect a surprise in the next few weeks. Bora had asked what the surprise was, but Mina wouldn’t even so much as give Yoohyeon a single hint.

Back in Minji’s manor, the grand foyer doors open, bright light seeping through the opening, but the figure standing like stone in the middle of the frame holds no light in them, hollow as the night, more wicked than the storm to come.

Instantly the fur on Nannan’s back rises, her green eyes widening to the size of saucers. The lady looks at her, unimpressed. Her eyes darker than the barrel of a gun. Nannan hisses.

There’s a ugly pause.

The lady’s eyes change into her true form, flickering black with the crimson ring around her pupils, dark veins protrude across her divine features. She hisses back, a low sound like that of a flicker from a snake’s tongue; but the power emitted behind the sound is like that of a fire’s scorching sizzle; for she looks like that of a deadly tiger, her face contorted in anger--sharp fangs glistening.

Nannan runs, flees to find Handong.

The lady follows her.

“It was good to see you all again, but I’m afraid I must cut this reunion short.” Minji smiles, she can feel the relief, the heavy weight lifting off her own shoulders as her guest shows no objections to leaving.

Handong’s eyes flicker to the entryway of the dining room, Nannan runs in, bolting underneath the massive, but slightly narrow in its width, table; where Pie and Cherry play with their chew toys--until they stop.

Handong’s heart drops the moment _she_ rounds the corner, standing inside the frame--smiling in a manner that Handong’s delicate lips would never so much as even attempt. It is wrong.

“So soon?” The lady questions.

Minji’s demeanor instantly falters, her face riddled with fear as her obsidian eyes lock with hellstone ones.

 _Jung Dasol_ , The Lady who Minji had suffered for many years, before they were changed, has now returned to make her suffer even more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now tell me, are y'all ready for part two? I don't think you are! ;) I'M SCREAMING!
> 
> Thank you friends for reading, and all of your love sent to this story! Mwah! Until next time take care! xoxo.
> 
> P.s. DREAMCATCHER WORLD DOMINATION. Those girls killed it with Odd eye. (I've been streaming that song so much that my neighbors hate me now :') IDGAF)


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